A draft of a theater piece

Maxi sits in her room, organizes her clothes, creates herself.

Meanwhile a pigeon flies over the city, and the rock she kicked from the sidewalk into the grass before has sunken deeper into the soil where it landed.


A baby with wings flies over the city. Below, demonstrators march in the global climate strike. Their energy wafts up like a loaded gun.




Performer: I won’t show you everything

Director: just enough to keep the desire in us to make meaning alive

Performer: Suddenly the present seems so precious, already I see how it’s the past, and I see us looking so young in old photographs.

Director: You don’t need to know what you’re doing.

Performer: I couldn’t agree more.

Director: I’m going to denounce my role.

Performer: Who will lead me then?

Director: I’ve asked a baby to step in. She has wings.


In a dark cave, tiny bacteria speak to each other. Maybe it takes a nano-second, maybe it takes a hundred years. They are discussing something irreverently.


I am writing this story because I am sure it’s a good thing to do. I am writing it because I want to. I don’t know where it ends or frankly where it begins but I know I want to get it out. I probably won’t keep that part in because no one wants to know about my doubt.


An angel flies in and asks: where shall I shine the light? What’s been obscured? I look closer at her face and notice that it is in fact Prince who has come bearing light.

Prince: there are some people here on earth that have maps. Find them. They will be humble and quiet and also hard to miss if you’re looking with your heart. Go to them. Sit with them. Make them dinner.

Me: how will I know I’ve found them?

Prince: it will be a feeling. You’ll know it when you feel it. Trust that. This story will take as long as it needs to take. Don’t give up.