SCENE I - ART
INT - AFTER DINNER - LIVING ROOM - MUTED TV
SOPHIA
I prayed to the spirits of forgotten destinies for there to be a way to become a writer who tells stories that change and inspire the world.
MARK
Aye. And I. The hard work began, and the old angry men — the ones who love to burn canvases of art and destroy positive worlds.
SOPHIA
Dear, my stomach sunk as they revoked the laws of good. Then, they gathered all their gang of fools, armed with propaganda and leaflets, simply because they hate that we, the artists, make them rise from their chairs of laziness and indifference to shout things that even their parrots are ashamed of.
MARK
The artists pray, and the people curse and pass judgment on the price of hake fillets.
SOPHIA
I heard that they swat flies with flyswatters and think of themselves as the Oëyar and the ancient sword-wielding heroes, ready to slice through any trace of things they might perceive as unnatural propaganda against theology. Theirs.
MARK
Their leaflets are biting, but bring neither progress nor the order they claim to defend.
SOPHIA
I do believe. I do care! And one day, all this will be just to gain another perspective on things – even if monstrous. Our world is a house, soon in flames.
MARK
Aye! I’ve been tired seeing chaos around. And such men, they hate you but still cannot remove their policy of welcoming strangers. Although they are hysterically hypocritical and their hatred stays on the table like a gun pointed at you, while you eat. And the other day, that just happened and I accepted an invitation, entered a house, and took off my tired shoes, letting my world-weary feet meet the cold floor of reality. I was curious to see what would happen.
SOPHIA
And then?
MARK
Then, I wasn't shocked and the house was full of euphemisms, morbid things, and memories moulding on the walls of banality that hold up the roof of hidden taboos. In that house, not even birds want to land, nor dare to sing. I smelled something that burned my lungs, and it wasn’t just the stench of the owner’s cheap tobacco, but even so, the house was humble.
SOPHIA
Did you sit at his table, even if you saw all that?
MARK
I sat at his table and I politely ate his bread.
The same bread that not even the devil would knead.
This my friend, I had to listen. Listening to things that not even his ill-mannered parrot would dare to repeat or speak of.
But the parrot spoke what the man of the house didn't dare to preach.
SOPHIA
I heard about that parrot!
What did it say?
SCENE II - SOUL
INT- CURRIDOR (NEXT TO THE DOOR) - LATE EVENING
(Sophia is doing her makeup.)
(Mark is dressing and putting on some cologne.)
MARK
Poor soul! Nothing worthy of replying or repeating! I wonder… Well…I would have imagined!
SOPHIA
Well… to be honest, in the end, I gave my thanks for the food and wine, left, buttoned up the coat of my thoughts, and breathed deeply the fresh air outside driving me to the forest. And where the singing birds sang perfect melodies of their freedom.
MARK
At least that.
I am sorry that happened to you.
SOPHIA
Don't be. Everything happens for a reason! I know that I spoke in a certain tone of voice that seemed to you as if I would come strong with a world upside down. But what's upside down isn't the world. Nay, my darling. This folk is. As if being born in the middle of this great mist makes them already living and breathing in tiredom doom.
MARK
Aye! I guess you are right about that. The world has been a rollcoster lately, and there's not one to blame, but the crazy way, which political propaganda works on the minds of those who are still asleep. and maybe some will never wake up.
SOPHIA
That's their choice. Even though the first opportunities may be taken from them, they had the choice to find a different path. But instead they decided to be there themselves and then, they blame others for their fate. What else can we do? Not much. If we push them too hard, they get angry and maybe it is too late for them to listen to the voice of reason. We are here in this place, today. And that's because we dared.
MARK
And we are the only ones who dared to wake up. Not waking up in the sense of… Well.. I opened my eyes in the morning to live another day and do all the tasks I have to do during the day. But an awakening that we all have eventually when it comes at the right moment. Call it whatever. Third eye. Awakening. Woke. Dreamer. Maybe enjoying Carpe Diem.
SOPHIA
Aye! We could do that. You dare? I am ready.
(Pause and look at Mark's eyes)
Meanwhile, kss me, love!
MARK
I will! I love you! I dare to say.
Yes, I dare to say that and more!
(Before opening the door he stops her and touches her lips.)
Wait, you are beautiful!
(Sophia smiles. Both kiss. A passionate kiss.)
(Mark opens the door to the outside and exits.)
curtain closes.