mildly annoyed at her presumption: that he had not thought this many, many times before.
With perfect misunderstanding she interpreted his passivity as disdain.
Wishing to hurt him, she slapped his face.
Wishing to hurt her, he smiled brilliantly.
8.
The story of the blue string touched the public imagination. Small brown paper packages were sold at the doors of his concerts.
Standing on the stage he could hear the packages being noisily unwrapped. He thought of American matrons buying Muslim prayer rugs.
9.
Exhausted and weakened by the heavy schedule he fell prey to the doubts that had pricked at him insistently for years. He lost all sense of direction and spent many listless hours by himself, sitting in a motel room listening to the air-conditioner.
He had lost confidence in the social uses of controlled terror. He no longer understood the audience’s need to experience the very things he so desperately wished to escape from.
He emptied the ashtrays fastidiously.
He opened his brown paper parcel and threw the small pieces of string down the cistern. When the torrent of white water subsided they remained floating there like flotsam from a disaster at sea.
10.
The Mime called a press conference to announce that there would be no more concerts. He seemed small and foreign and smelt of garlic. The press regarded him without enthusiasm. He watched their hovering pens anxiously, unsuccessfully willing them to write down his words.
Briefly he announced that he wished to throw his talent open to broader influences. His skills would be at the disposal of the people, who would be free to request his services for any purpose at any time.
His skin seemed sallow but his eyes seemed as bright as those on a nodding fur mascot on the back window ledge of an American car.
11.
Asked to describe death he busied himself taking Polaroid photographs of his questioners.
12.
Asked to describe marriage he handed out small cheap mirrors with MADE IN TUNISIA written on the back.
13.
His popularity declined. It was felt that he had become obscure and beyond the understanding of ordinary people. In response he requested easier questions. He held back nothing of himself in his effort to please his audience.
14.
Asked to describe an aeroplane he flew three times around the city, only injuring himself slightly on landing.
15.
Asked to describe a river, he drowned himself.
16.
It is unfortunate that this, his last and least typical performance, is the only one which has been recorded on film.
There is a small crowd by the river bank, no more than thirty people. A small, neat man dressed in a grey suit picks his way through some children who seem more interested in the large plastic toy dog they are playing with.
He steps into the river, which, at the bank, is already quite deep. His head is only visible above the water for a second or two. And then he is gone.
A policeman looks expectantly over the edge, as if waiting for him to reappear. Then the film stops.
Watching this last performance it is difficult to imagine how this man stirred such emotions in the hearts of those who saw him.
Kristu-Du
The man who brings water shall be blessed.
He carrieth fat to the cattle,
ears to the corn.
The sound of such water can be likened
to the laughter of children.
(Traditional Deffala Song)
1.
While the architect’s wife carefully folded a pair of white slacks, five men were hanged. As she hunted through the drawer for her cosmetics and packed them neatly, one by one, in a small leather carrying case, an old man died of dehydration and starvation beside a dusty road. As she slipped the case shut and fiddled inexpertly with its lock, teams of imported builders laboured on the great domed building in the middle of the cruel rock-filled valley.
The architect sat on the edge of the neatly made bed and watched his wife. He was a slim tall man in his late forties. He had fine blue eyes, unusually large eyelids, and a high forehead made even
With perfect misunderstanding she interpreted his passivity as disdain.
Wishing to hurt him, she slapped his face.
Wishing to hurt her, he smiled brilliantly.
8.
The story of the blue string touched the public imagination. Small brown paper packages were sold at the doors of his concerts.
Standing on the stage he could hear the packages being noisily unwrapped. He thought of American matrons buying Muslim prayer rugs.
9.
Exhausted and weakened by the heavy schedule he fell prey to the doubts that had pricked at him insistently for years. He lost all sense of direction and spent many listless hours by himself, sitting in a motel room listening to the air-conditioner.
He had lost confidence in the social uses of controlled terror. He no longer understood the audience’s need to experience the very things he so desperately wished to escape from.
He emptied the ashtrays fastidiously.
He opened his brown paper parcel and threw the small pieces of string down the cistern. When the torrent of white water subsided they remained floating there like flotsam from a disaster at sea.
10.
The Mime called a press conference to announce that there would be no more concerts. He seemed small and foreign and smelt of garlic. The press regarded him without enthusiasm. He watched their hovering pens anxiously, unsuccessfully willing them to write down his words.
Briefly he announced that he wished to throw his talent open to broader influences. His skills would be at the disposal of the people, who would be free to request his services for any purpose at any time.
His skin seemed sallow but his eyes seemed as bright as those on a nodding fur mascot on the back window ledge of an American car.
11.
Asked to describe death he busied himself taking Polaroid photographs of his questioners.
12.
Asked to describe marriage he handed out small cheap mirrors with MADE IN TUNISIA written on the back.
13.
His popularity declined. It was felt that he had become obscure and beyond the understanding of ordinary people. In response he requested easier questions. He held back nothing of himself in his effort to please his audience.
14.
Asked to describe an aeroplane he flew three times around the city, only injuring himself slightly on landing.
15.
Asked to describe a river, he drowned himself.
16.
It is unfortunate that this, his last and least typical performance, is the only one which has been recorded on film.
There is a small crowd by the river bank, no more than thirty people. A small, neat man dressed in a grey suit picks his way through some children who seem more interested in the large plastic toy dog they are playing with.
He steps into the river, which, at the bank, is already quite deep. His head is only visible above the water for a second or two. And then he is gone.
A policeman looks expectantly over the edge, as if waiting for him to reappear. Then the film stops.
Watching this last performance it is difficult to imagine how this man stirred such emotions in the hearts of those who saw him.
Kristu-Du
The man who brings water shall be blessed.
He carrieth fat to the cattle,
ears to the corn.
The sound of such water can be likened
to the laughter of children.
(Traditional Deffala Song)
1.
While the architect’s wife carefully folded a pair of white slacks, five men were hanged. As she hunted through the drawer for her cosmetics and packed them neatly, one by one, in a small leather carrying case, an old man died of dehydration and starvation beside a dusty road. As she slipped the case shut and fiddled inexpertly with its lock, teams of imported builders laboured on the great domed building in the middle of the cruel rock-filled valley.
The architect sat on the edge of the neatly made bed and watched his wife. He was a slim tall man in his late forties. He had fine blue eyes, unusually large eyelids, and a high forehead made even
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