STEPHANIE
I'm sorry for you, but for this family this is the end of the line. We are like the slaves locked in
with the dead king, just sitting around waiting for the inevitable. Just go back to your aged
mother and do whatever you have to do, make tea and semolina and comb the sparse hair and
fluff the pillows and tie up the bedjacket. It's quite hopeless here and we don't need any help.
So, go back to your flat.· This is a prison. You're right. You are in prison. I don't care if you
never admit life is a bad joke. I don't care if you never once think about death or the size of the
universe or how really really tiny your own life is. It doesn't matter. I've got you. I've got you
locked up in exactly the kind of life you and your whole generation wanted so badly. It's clean,
new, sealed off from the world by a security system. I've got you. You'll never get out. You're
stuck here forever. All you've got left is the endless contemplation of how empty all the things
you ever hoped for are. And you wasted your time in providing for us, protecting us. The things
you kept from us, hunger, fear, cold….they got us just the same. You kept them at bay at the
front door, but they came around the back and stole us away, like gypsies.
No comments:
Post a Comment