Sunday, December 18, 2011

A small room above a bay window. A single bed, a table and chair, and a sink. I could manage something larger, with more conveniences, but I could never match the view.

This morning my neighbour had a caller; an actor like her, someone she has been rehearsing with.

Occasionally a line seeped through, always recognizable. Or maybe they all seeped through, and I only heard the ones I recognized.

From the sounds of it they are making a play based on selected lines from Shakespeare plays. And now they are arguing over what to call it.

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