The end of summer

Shakespeare in Japanese.

Cohai.

Nights that become mornings, amongst skype, one am dinners and map dreaming through a virtual internet connection.

The slow realization that I understand the monologues in rehearsals, and that they are more terrible, more human and more real than my half flung imaginings created. Suicide falls from the blackest of universal humour, to macabre curiosity, to the knee jerk reaction of pain, when self harmers describe the scissors they use to cut their veins, the feel of four hundred tranquilisers in a stomach, the half funny, half tragic failure to hang oneself.

Finally finally the humidity vanishes and the weather is bearable.

And the anticipation and anxiety in the wait for a spontaneous visitor from another world.