I saw a show the other night. Lots of people looked terribly serious. They were important people. Their importance was obvious. They held their cheeks in a most important way. And for some, it was in the way they drew attention to the management that their importance wasn’t being recognized when they ordered their drinks. So like small amoebas darting in a small droplet of muddy waters, the importance was the foyer; the art was the vehicle. But in reality they were simply making the sound in the air.

Some drank quiet air. No sound emanated from their presence. I identified with the silent ones. They crept about like shadows. And I realised that I am a shadow. I am a creature devoid of sound. No one can hear my utterances. Yet I am not mute. I speak often. Strange I make no sound. At least, I make no sound perceived by the others. Then I see it. The recognizer!

Fear strikes in many ways. Even in a foyer! There is the recognizer; that obscure variation of the shadow creature that sees and watches. It might have been my creation once. But now it seeks my destruction.

Artaud is the Recognizer

He is the shape in the corner from the side of my eye. Artaud displays a slight smile. Or was it a snigger?

I wonder if Artaud also felt like a stranger in a theatre foyer? A mere strange sound in the air … a bizarre synesthesia! Does he see my fraudulent art?