The Other Shore (30 page)

(
He circles around the suitcase with caution and then walks away, but he cannot help looking back
.) Certainly you did peep through a door crack or behind a curtain, ogling at the secrets of a girl who’d just been awakened to desire, a desire which also tormented you…. Then the whole thing became commonplace after a while. Satisfying a desire is nothing more than having a good meal. Now only when you’re face to face with evil, is the excitement enough to satisfy the evil in your heart, you’re that close to death and you’re playing a death game. You know it well, over there on the side of death there’s nothing, nothing can possibly exist. You’re merely toying with death, and at the brink of death you more or less have a feeling of apprehension…(
Returns to the suitcase and opens it carefully.
)

(
A woman’s head rolls out. Stunned, Sleepwalker backs off, stops and looks down.

It becomes gradually brighter behind the opened doorway, revealing a silent night sky. There are no clouds. The moonlight is clear, but the moon is not seen. The caws of seagulls can be heard faintly
.)

Sleepwalker:

(
Looking back at the door.
) And then you heard the tide and the rumbling of the waves, and you saw the moonlight galloping on the sea and on top of the blue ripples. Before the full moon rose, there came wave after wave of blue radiance, and they swam and danced amid the dingy sea water like slithering snakes. The waves, glittering and breaking at times, disappeared before your bare ankles, which were now immersed in the ice cold sea water. And your young self of a long time ago, overawed and surprised, couldn’t help walking deeper and deeper into the water in unhurried steps…

(
Walking towards the big door.
) You felt the temptation of death for the first time.

(
Stops.
) You’ve been afraid of death ever since you were small, afraid that one day you’d disappear from the face of the earth once and for all.

At one time you shot and killed a bird with plumed

feathers. It was cut up so badly that its insides all spilled out. Only an indigo plume remained, which you kept…

(
Keeps walking.
) Your life is in fact an enigma, you’ve not been able to walk away from desires, including sleeping with women, getting married and getting divorced. You’re still afraid of death, even though not as much as before. If one day it arrives, your life will be over and that’s that, there’ll be no need to think about it any more. But you’re still trying everything possible to avoid its coming; apart from the instinct to survive, there’s no other meaning you can think of, no other reason for you to keep on living. Even if you cried out loud or blew a whistle as hard as you could, the whole thing would still be nonsensical, a laughable nonsense even today.

(
Walks in front of the door.
) You can’t walk in through this door, it’s in your destiny, once you cross the threshold, everything here will vanish, no more.

You know very well that there’s nothing behind the door, all is but your imagination, even your childhood memories are shadowy, they’ll only come back to you slowly and reveal themselves after you’ve ransacked your brain, but they remain blurred, the only thing that’s clear is the effort you’ve put in. You’ve made the effort, trying in vain to sketch an outline of your memory, but it’s like this door frame, you can’t be sure what’s inside.

(
Turns around.
) You can’t map out the border between memory and imagination, if memory is real and imagination is mere fantasy, how can you tell how much reality actually resides in memory, which has already been processed by imagination, and how much of it is not mere fantasy? In the final analysis you can’t return to the reality which has elapsed, and you’re destined to live in the here and now.

(
Leaves the door
.) You know that right now you’re sleepwalking, living in a world between dream and reality, and you can’t be sure whether the reality you’re in is merely your memory or imagination. You don’t even have the courage to disturb your dream, is it because such a disturbance would mean the death of your self? There’s no way to detect whether you, your self, are real or fictitious. You’re like an illusive shadow, perhaps that’s why you want to have a woman, the tangible body of a woman, so that you can prove your existence, and it is not important who this woman should be. At this time, you need only a woman who could share your carnal desire with you—something like that. (
Droops his head.
)

(
Prostitute appears behind the door with the moonlight on her back. Her face is cold and pale.
)

Prostitute:

You just want her to submit herself to your desire, is that it?

Sleepwalker:

(
Turns around.
) You say isn’t she dead already?

Prostitute:

It’s you, you’re the killer…

Sleepwalker:

You say it’s obvious that the Thug did it, or it could have been the other bastard. Who knows? The stray bullet could have come from the front or from behind. They were shooting at each other, unfortunately she was caught in the middle and she became the victim. Anyway, what good can you expect when you’ve fallen into the hands of gangsters?

(
Prostitute snickers.
)

Sleepwalker:

You ask what is she laughing at?

Prostitute:

(
Moving with the moonlight, she steps in through the door and walks slowly towards him.
) Unfortunately it’s you who pushed her inside. You’re so forgetful!

(
Sleepwalker hurriedly slips the head inside the suitcase.
)

Prostitute:

She was killed by your imagination. You abused her in your imagination, and then you killed her. It’s so typical of men.

Sleepwalker:

You say you’re not with them, you’re entirely different!

Prostitute:

But you’re a man, all men are the same, they’re so egotistical.

Sleepwalker:

You say more or less you’ve got to have a bit of…(
Hides the suitcase behind him.
)

Prostitute:

A bit of what?

Sleepwalker:

A bit of compassion…a bit of apprehension…a bit of conscience—

Prostitute:

Don’t talk about conscience!

Sleepwalker:

What then?

Prostitute:

The small bit of conscience you had has already vanished a long time ago. That’s right, there’s only a little bit of cowardice left in you, which is the difference between you and them, of course you know what’s meant by “them.” You don’t have the courage to act, to do anything. Only in your imagination or in your fantasy can you let yourself go, being ever so wild and unruly, but you’re an absolute coward when it’s for real.

(
The door behind Prostitute gradually closes until it is half shut.
)

Sleepwalker:

You say you can admit the difference, but you’re certainly not a coward.

Prostitute:

Don’t worry, she’s not saying you’re impotent. She’s only referring to your so-called “thinking.” You only talk to yourself, and you’ve been using your brain too much to know how to make love to a woman. That’s why you haven’t been able to get your woman, the kind you’ve been dreaming about.

Sleepwalker:

What kind of woman?

Prostitute:

Don’t you know? A whore, one who can fulfil all your sexual fantasies.

Sleepwalker:

(
Hesitates
.) Sure I do, the question is whether or not she can do it.

There’s no way you’re going to find her.

Sleepwalker:

Why not?

Prostitute:

Because even hookers are human beings and sex to them is only a way of making a living. Isn’t it the same with you? You’ve got to have an occupation, you’ve got to work whether you like it or not. So you’re also putting yourself up for sale, aren’t you?

Sleepwalker:

(
Retorts.
) You say you’re talking about her, and you’re asking if she enjoys her work.

Prostitute:

Are you talking about her flesh trade? Or the body she makes a living with? Hookers are like ordinary women, they’re not necessarily cold or frigid, nor are they necessarily not wanton. The key is whether you can turn on that special nerve.

Sleepwalker:

You say then she’s after sensual pleasure, isn’t she?

Prostitute:

Maybe it’s just the opposite.

Sleepwalker:

You ask is she going after emotional gratification but thinks that you’re in it for the pleasure?

Prostitute:

You said wrong.

Sleepwalker:

You say she also has spiritual needs, and she’s not doing it just for money?

Prostitute:

Wrong again.

Sleepwalker:

You say then you don’t understand.

Prostitute:

You’re so pathetic.

Sleepwalker:

What do women consider sexy then? Is it money? Or is it violence?

Prostitute:

You’re really out of it, aren’t you? It’s tiring talking to you. You don’t know how to listen to a woman, you don’t know how to listen to her voice, you’ll never be able to understand a woman.

Sleepwalker:

Maybe it is so. (
Feels frustrated.
)

Prostitute:

(
Strokes his head.
) In fact she still likes you, you’re such a big kid.

Sleepwalker:

But one who can’t arouse her desire.

Prostitute:

That’s not important, as far as a woman is concerned.

Sleepwalker:

What’s important then?

Prostitute:

Make sure that she has no troubles.

Sleepwalker:

To flatter her, tell her that she’s pretty, sexy, and attractive? And tell her that she’s alluring, titillating, a cheap, lowly, and raunchy piece of meat, just like a whore who’d sell herself to the highest bidder?

Prostitute:

If she can find a customer, why not?

Sleepwalker:

(
Startled and speechless.
) Is it true…you ask…you say you…could also pay to…

Prostitute:

(
Moves away.
) It depends, if she accepts the offer.

Sleepwalker:

You ask her why did she accept the bastard’s offer?

Prostitute:

It doesn’t concern you. Even if she did, it’s her decision to make. It’s her body, her own body! It’s none of your business!

Sleepwalker:

You’d pay! You say you’d pay!

Prostitute:

But she has to agree first. (
Walks away.
)

Sleepwalker:

(
Catches up with her.
) You ask did she agree to do it with that rascal? You demand her to say it!

Prostitute:

(
Steps back.
) Say what?

Sleepwalker:

Say it, you want her to say—(
Moves forward and forces her.
)

Prostitute:

There’s nothing to say.

Sleepwalker:

You must have her say it! When that rascal did it with her, did she feel any pleasure?

Prostitute:

Yes, (
Lifts her head up high.
) so what?

(
Sleepwalker is dumbfounded.

Prostitute laughs out loud, bending her waist
.

Sleepwalker approaches, and she keeps him away with her hands.
)

Sleepwalker:

You ask what’s the meaning of this?

Prostitute:

Because, you’re not a big, bad rascal. (
Turns to move away.
)

Sleepwalker:

You say she covets the devil!

Prostitute:

And you’re so far from being a devil, right?

Sleepwalker:

You say there’s a devil in everyone’s mind. The question is whether or not you set it free.

Prostitute:

Your problem is not whether you want to, or whether you’re willing to, it’s that you’re incapable.

Sleepwalker:

You say she’s only in it for the pleasure.

Prostitute:

Don’t you also want your life to be wild and crazy?

Sleepwalker:

You say she is virtually as bad as a broken shoe.

(
Prostitute immediately takes off the only shoe she has on. Holding it high above her head, she moves far away from him.
)

Prostitute:

What more have you got to say? She can’t stand men wearing undershirts.

(
Sleepwalker takes off his undershirt and approaches her.
)

Sleepwalker:

A stinking whore!

(
Sleepwalker throws himself at her, but Prostitute turns and gets away
.

A frosty looking Ruffian appears in the dark, carrying a gun in a holster attached to a belt on his back. His top is bare. He stops Prostitute and holds her in his arms. He grabs the shoe from her hand, pushes her down and throws the shoe on the floor. Nodding his head, he signals to her to pick up the shoe. As she picks up the shoe, Ruffian stamps his foot on her hand and crushes her fingers. She goes down on her knees.
)