Scene 4

Perhaps the threads never travel upwards. Perhaps the players are all puppets jiggling and moving simultaneously on the same plane: an army on semi-automatic, moving through the world in a half-regulated, half-random fashion.

At times, when you stand before the mirror and observe the manner in which your eyelids twitch, you become acutely aware of the nuts and bolts in your interior – and then you feel as if you are a machine that has a few minor faults: at once decisive and definite.

Don't they say: «Thy will be done?» But who are you?

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