A circle of chairs. On each chair is a script. From the center of the circle a microphone is recording.
A group of spectactors enter. Each spectactor picks up a script and takes a seat.
Spectactor: Where do I begin?
Spectactor: It was the summer of 2022. That we lost you.
Spectactor: You didn’t lose me, I am right here in front of you.
Spectactor: Not you.
Spectactor: I remember the feeling that time was bending.
Spectactor: Time was almost not existing.
Spectactor: As if every minute was disappearing around the corner.
Spectactor: I tried to follow you.
Spectactor: You didn’t lose me, I am right here in front of you.
Spectactor: It was in 2022. The weather was so warm that day. I was wearing shorts.
Spectactor: This feels like a déjà vu. Why do I feel like I have been in this exact moment before?
Spectactor: (Points to some shoes.) Why do I feel like I have seen those shoes before?
Spectactor: It had been some strange years and… I don’t know…
Spectactor: Everything just had this feeling of absurdity to it.
Spectactor: I am right here. In front of you.
Spectactor: The weather was so nice that day.
Spectactor: Was it in August?
Spectactor: Does the date matter?
Spectactor: It was the summer of 2022. That you left.
Spectactor: Had something happened? Something that had made you want to leave?
Spectactor: Something traumatic?
Spectactor: Something traumatic happens every fucking moment at this planet.
Spectactor: What happened?
Spectactor: Stop making everything so heavy.
Spectactor: It’s not the end of the world if someone leaves.
Spectactor: Every day someone leaves.
Spectactor: Every day I am left behind.
Spectactor: I am going to leave this place as well.
Spectactor: Why did you leave?
Spectactor: I left myself behind.
Spectactor: I remember your voice. I remember your voice sounding so fragile. I didn’t know if you were nervous or if this was your usual way of speaking.
Spectactor: I remember your silence.
Spectactor: The sound of your breathing filling the space.
Spectactor: Did you have any reason to be nervous in front of me?
Spectactor: It’s so warm in here.
Spectactor: Our feet touching the same ground, but…
Spectactor: It was the late summer of 2022. That you appeared out of nowhere. Suddenly you were right in front of me. I tried to reach out and touch you, but…
Spectactor: It all happened in a glimpse of time.
Spectactor: Where did we meet?
Spectactor: We will meet again, not knowing that we already met before.
Spectactor: We will meet again as strangers.
Spectactor: Nothing new under the sun.
Spectactor: I found you, but…
Spectactor: (Points to some shoes.) I really feel like I have seen those shoes before.
Spectactor: I didn’t know what to say.
Spectactor: As if all the words I knew.
Spectactor: Were made for others.
Spectactor: Not for me.
Spectactor: It was hard to recognize you.
Spectactor: Not for us.
Spectactor: You have changed.
Spectactor: Not for this moment.
Spectactor: Time went so fast.
Spectactor: How long have we been here?
Spectactor: Time is running.
Spectactor: A river running into the sea.
Spectactor: I guess time did change me.
Spectactor: Will you come back?
Spectactor: Moving from one place to another.
Spectactor: Moving across time and space.
Spectactor: Leaving myself behind.
Spectactor: I tend to hold on to what I’ve got.
Spectactor: (Points to some shoes.) For how long did you have those shoes? I’m sure I’ve seen them before.
Spectactor: I was being drawn.
Spectactor: Going around and around and…
Spectactor: Arriving at the beginning.
Spectactor: Nothing new under the sun.
Spectactor: Loosing myself.
Spectactor: If I arrive at the beginning, will I meet my old self waiting for me to come back?
Spectactor: Another language had to appear.
Spectactor: Another shape.
Spectactor: The shape of this moment.
Spectactor: To touch the layers of time.
Spectactor: To allow someone from the past to guide you into the future.
Spectactor: Where do I begin?
Spectactor: We cared for you, long after you left.
Spectactor: I left myself behind.
Spectactor: Going around and around…
Spectactor: A rite of passage.
Spectactor: There’s only one way and that’s through.
Spectactor: I left myself behind.
Spectactor: Why?
Spectactor: Lending my body to someone…
Spectactor: Or something…
Spectactor: For a while I stayed without a body.
Spectactor: For how long did you do that?
Spectactor: The weather was so warm. I remember waking up at sunrise with the feeling that love was flowing in through my left hand and forehead. It was very physical. I opened my eyes and I saw the new moon under a bright star. The sky was pink and orange. Then I fell back to sleep.
Spectactor: To let go of my worries, I had to let go of the person I thought I was.
Spectactor: To let love in.
Spectactor: I left myself behind.
Spectactor: Something you once said keeps replaying in my mind. Sometimes I doubt if I was the one who said it.
Spectactor: In between who I was and who I will become.
Spectactor: Will you come back?
Spectactor: Someone or…
Spectactor: Something was inhabiting my body and I was…
Spectactor: A soul without a shape.
Spectactor: I am right here.
Spectactor: In front of you.
Spectactor: Does the soul belong to anyone when it doesn’t have a shape?
Spectactor: Waiting for my new shape to appear.
Spectactor: I tend to hold on to what I’ve got.
Spectactor: Feet touching the ground.
Spectactor: Touching the ground.
Spectactor: Where do I end?
Spectactor: Where do you end?
Spectactor: Where do I end?
Spectactor: Where do you begin?
Spectactor: Where do I begin?
Spectactor: Where do you begin?
Spectactor: Do I end where my feet touch the ground?
Spectactor: Do I end where my hands begin?
Spectactor: Or where the tone of my voice echoes into silence?
Spectactor: Do I end where my language ends?
Spectactor: Do I begin where something I once did or said is repeated by another body?
Spectactor: Do I begin where my language ends?
Spectactor: Do I begin in you?
Spectactor: Do you begin in me?
Spectactor: Do I begin in you?
Spectactor: Do you begin in me?
Each of the spectactors takes a deep breath in and begins to hum. They hum for as long or as short as they want, in any tone they want, as high or as low as they want. A delta of voices.
Spectactor: Something you once said keeps replaying in my mind.
Spectactor: I.
Spectactor: Am.
Spectactor: Right.
Spectactor: Here.
Spectactor: In.
Spectactor: Front.
Spectactor: Of.
Spectactor: You.
Spectactor: Nothing new under the sun.
Spectactor: Nothing new under the sun.
Spectactor: I remember not worrying about what was inside or outside, beginnings or ends.
Spectactor: I remember being fearless in relation to infinity.
Spectactor: Nothing new under the sun.
Spectactor: Souls floating between us.
Spectactor: In this moment we are an entity and whatever one of us do will stay with all of us.
Spectactor: Nothing new under the sun.
Spectactor: If I shout now, will someone hear it when I’m gone?
Spectactor: Why would anyone shout?
Spectactor: It was the summer of 2022.
Spectactor: That we lost you.
Spectactor: But your voice lingered for a long time behind…
Spectactor: Like an empty seashell on a sandy beach.
Spectactor: I kept hearing your voice. Over and over.
Spectactor: Your voice became a part of me.
Spectactor: We linger in the bodies of each other.
Spectactor: I don’t want this moment to end.
Spectactor: (Points to some shoes.) Why do I feel like I have seen those shoes before?
Spectactor: When I leave, I will carry you with me.
The spectactors lay the scripts on the chairs and leave. The sound recording plays back into the space.