Monday, 17 August 2020


Brest/July 2020

Not a lot of people came to the show, a handful at most. 

Leo was there of course, but as principal and only actor he probably felt obliged to be present. His ex, clearly wasn’t, so her presence was a testament to her support as a friend whereas my own was awkward, so i sat at the back. Other than that there were more dogs than people.


A kid on a bike road around us in defiance of the fact that Leo was trying to create a theatre where there wasn’t one.


His set was good- a chair, a pile of books, a bottle of water and a guitar; all would be used, but the kid on the bike cared not. The dogs were better behaved.


At one point a man leading five donkeys and playing a tin whistle walked through; it was not part of the show, which to some degree was about constructive failure.


Most of the people who wandered over from the bar wondering what was happening wandered back.


Except Salome.


Salome lives in the flat above the bar but rarely ventures out. She has a large birthmark that covers more than half her face and she is embarrassed by its ugliness.


But something about our small group’s attempt to encourage Leo drew her out, and in the perplexity of his text she forgot her shyness.


And for a moment was someone else.

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