Revolving stage, the road, no two nights under the same roof. CURTAIN RISES onto darkness. From the darkness rises music that evokes an ancient time. The world we enter is not our own. We feel in the presence of mysteries. In the air is the scent of God. Those who enter the stage, their roles are not of their own choice. They received them in the womb. They honed them in their scars. The light starts to dawn. From offstage comes a prayer.
Two men meet. Two men sent forth by what, in search for what? This is how it starts. How it ends, who knows?
Does even the playwright?. All he knows is that it’s progressing toward a tragedy and betrayal is at the heart of it all. If you’ve reached adulthood, you know about that. Which of us hasn’t been betrayed? Which of us hasn’t turned around and betrayed another?
This is the hardest thing I’ve ever tried to write. All I can do is press on. If it’s to be done, won’t it be?