A Lymphnode of Snodule!

an absurdism of essences for the noise age written in 7,016 words. webpage link

'Topographie Des Terrors' framed plastic bag from gift shop, Berlin, 2014.

GNAT: [Thinking aloud] Born then here. Or there. Increasingly so. Raised or dragged up. Never mind. Expect again, expect less.

A Working flat. Old and decayed. Exposed pipes dripping. Victorian in feel, we are in the lower depths. There are two workstation desks equidistant and symmetrical slightly forward on centre of stage. GNAT’s desk is slightly upstage of WORKER not noticeable so allowing him to watch unobserved. Upstage right a half open door reveals a filthy toilet next to an equally filthy cooker. Upstage left is a fuse-­‐box. A Second door upstage leads to a hallway. [WORKER and GNAT are sat at their desks. WORKER is working away, mumbling to himself, half in song. GNAT is staring out to the audience absentmindedly, tomes of massive books opened out in front of him. WORKER’s words pull him out of his reverie.] The only bright shiny object that can be seen is the sharp scissors glinting and flickering in WORKER hand as he goes about his work with a military industrial complex. It is dark half-­‐light on stage a blue light is used to bring out the flashing scissors.