“Sleeping and walking, speaking to one another in their dream, each head leaning on another walker’s shoulder. I do not know who carries whom and what force drives them to walk— DUKE: Sometimes, alone in my private chamber, I take off both shoes and look at my feet and think it is him. ELDERLY MATH TEACHER: I hit him. He was a stubborn boy, and impudent, with strange opinions even as a child, and I—spare the rod, spoil the child—I had to beat him. When he raised his hands to protect his face, I ...hit him in the stomach. WALKING MAN: But where are you, what are you, just tell me that, my son. I ask simply: Where are you? Ayeka? Or like a pupil before his master (for that is how I often see you now), please teach me—as I not long ago taught you— the world and all its secrets. Forgive me if my question sounds foolish and insipid, but I must ask because it has been eating at my soul like a disease these past five years: What is death, my son? What is death? MIDWIFE: Great, definitive death, my girl, with b-b-boundless power.MoreLessRead More Read Less
User Reviews: