"The woman in black (or dark blue) enters in silence and stands beside a house projected on the wall. She bends her upper body to the ground and rises up repeating this movement again and again. Her untied black hair draws a parabola following the movement. The endless repetition is obsessive and insane. As time passing, it becomes a torture tearing at the heart of one who is watching. Is this act of bending and lifting an act of knocking in order to open the door? But what door? A silent scream fills the lungs urgently seeking release from this torture. The woman continues in silence. The economic and precise movement beats into the heart over and over again. She simply keeps repeating the action. The action is not only stronger than words but also honest and truthful. One cannot endure it, cannot pretend any more to be fine and happy with only a few problems. A deep pain surfaces revealing the other side, which has been hidden. Finally one admits and surrenders to her action. One becomes open and full-hearted. The hypocritical mask is torn apart as if she finally penetrates one's spirit, which has been closed and locked, so tight bruised and hurt. After banging so hard and throwing herself away, she is bleeding all over in her soul. Her blood is a sacrifice for me, for you, and for all who carry the wounded soul. The humbly opened spirit goes to her and embraces her without a need of words or masks. One finally faces oneself."(aeran jeong:inner response)
Heart Play
My thoughts are wounds in my head. My brain is a scar. I want to be a machine. Arms to drag legs to walk no pain no thinking. (Heiner Müller , 'Hamletmachine' ) Heartplay A May I lay my heart at your feet. B If you don't make a mess on my floor.. A My heart is clean.. B We'll see, won't we.. A I can't get it out.. B Would you like me to help you.. A If you wouldn't mind.. B It'll be a pleasure. I can't get it out either.. A cries. B I will remove it surgically. What have I got this penknife for anyway. We'll have this sorted out in no time. work will keep you from despair. Right, there we are. But this is a brick. Your heart is a red brick.. A Yes, but it beats only for you.. (1981) A beats B to death with the brick.. (Addition, July 1991). ------------- Heiner Müller ----------------- from Heiner Müller Theatremachine translated and edited by Marc von Henning
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