Donne-moi ta main.
Have you ever had something you have always wanted to say but it was so deep inside of you and you were so afraid of that person's response, that you kept it inside?
Last night I went to 'une piece' Une piece is a play held at a theatre. But this is where words are deceptive. Instead of theatre, imagine a room with black walls. Now imagine a room inside of it with no doors, just something you can climb on top of and look down at everyone (because the ceiling is very high). Imagine huge mirrors placed at each direction so the room appears to be four times larger than it really is. Imagine chairs situated against the walls so that each person has a completely different point of view but because of the mirrors can see almost every angle in that room. Now imagine 20 spectators and 4 actors in a room with the door closed.
Intimate, private, intense. It was a story of great emotion and turmoil. There are two couples in this story: one in their 20s and the other, a financially wealthy couple in their 40's. Each has something the other desires..and the struggle, the bargaining, the exchange begins. Youth , like a beautiful empty bowl, with only dreams to fill it, age, with its weathered exterior but so full of longing. La piece was title L'echange.
For two and a half laborious hours the couples took turns grinding out their lives, trying to make something of their raw material. I sat with my head swimming in french with the occasional moment of perfect understanding, drowning in the richness of the language and the emotion.
In the end, the final line. "Donne-moi ta main", the older man says to the younger woman. She hesitates, he waits.
I am sitting there watching this piece with everyone else. And as there are mirrors to see the hidden corners of the room, I have a mirror that sees into this actor's heart. He is my friend. And at times I have been his confident.
I take a deep breath after the final line. I know everything now. "Give me your hand", is what he has been longing to say. Each night as he acts out his love, he is acting out his love. Its almost too much for me. I know how he feels about this young woman and now I see how wonderfully special she is. I see now who is real girlfriend is. I have sat there and watched her taunt and tease and curse this young woman, the true object of his affection. If only she knew, and perhaps she does and that motivates her acting. The play is real. Only the ending is something to be imagined. When he says, "donne-moi ta main" she gives it to him. And every night he can imagine that its real.
I exited the theatre almost suffocating. The room was stuffy and humid and warm. But the emotions in it were even more confining. I will forever treasure this experience of being in someone's anguish and finding beauty in it.
Last night I went to 'une piece' Une piece is a play held at a theatre. But this is where words are deceptive. Instead of theatre, imagine a room with black walls. Now imagine a room inside of it with no doors, just something you can climb on top of and look down at everyone (because the ceiling is very high). Imagine huge mirrors placed at each direction so the room appears to be four times larger than it really is. Imagine chairs situated against the walls so that each person has a completely different point of view but because of the mirrors can see almost every angle in that room. Now imagine 20 spectators and 4 actors in a room with the door closed.
Intimate, private, intense. It was a story of great emotion and turmoil. There are two couples in this story: one in their 20s and the other, a financially wealthy couple in their 40's. Each has something the other desires..and the struggle, the bargaining, the exchange begins. Youth , like a beautiful empty bowl, with only dreams to fill it, age, with its weathered exterior but so full of longing. La piece was title L'echange.
For two and a half laborious hours the couples took turns grinding out their lives, trying to make something of their raw material. I sat with my head swimming in french with the occasional moment of perfect understanding, drowning in the richness of the language and the emotion.
In the end, the final line. "Donne-moi ta main", the older man says to the younger woman. She hesitates, he waits.
I am sitting there watching this piece with everyone else. And as there are mirrors to see the hidden corners of the room, I have a mirror that sees into this actor's heart. He is my friend. And at times I have been his confident.
I take a deep breath after the final line. I know everything now. "Give me your hand", is what he has been longing to say. Each night as he acts out his love, he is acting out his love. Its almost too much for me. I know how he feels about this young woman and now I see how wonderfully special she is. I see now who is real girlfriend is. I have sat there and watched her taunt and tease and curse this young woman, the true object of his affection. If only she knew, and perhaps she does and that motivates her acting. The play is real. Only the ending is something to be imagined. When he says, "donne-moi ta main" she gives it to him. And every night he can imagine that its real.
I exited the theatre almost suffocating. The room was stuffy and humid and warm. But the emotions in it were even more confining. I will forever treasure this experience of being in someone's anguish and finding beauty in it.
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