the script reader dreams the script they dreamt they were reading

The alarm clock goes off. The reader reaches to switch it off. Slowly the realisation dawns. The reader is trapped within a script. But what kind of script? She gets out of bed and tiptoes through to the next room. The TV is still playing. Scattered on the floor are cans of lager and the vestiges of last night's Chinese takeaway. On the sofa someone stirs. They have long hair and they're clearly hung over. Upstairs music starts playing loudly. The reader recoils in horror. She's landed in a student sitcom. Any second now three spotty males are about to arrive and eat toast and take the piss out of the man on the sofa. Then, the man wakes up. He stands up and he starts to cry. The reader walks to the window and looks out. She's on a council estate. It's run down and grim. There's a dog barking next door. The student is on the phone to his dealer. He's not a student. He's an ex-con. It's not a student sitcom. It's an urban crime story. The ex-con is saying he's got the money. He's shouting at some one, saying he'll be there. The ex-con leaves and the reader follows them. The ex-con goes to a cafe. He meets an arctic explorer. A female arctic explorer. They have a long conversation about why the arctic explorer needs to have therapy. In fact, the ex-con is the arctic explorer's therapist. And they're having an affair. The conversation is interrupted by precise sound effects. The sound of the wind in the arctic. The exaggerated tones of an expresso maker. The reader tries to keep up. She realises she's in a radio drama. The drama cuts to a boat. The arctic explorer has her own cabin. The good-looking ship's captain enters. He tells the arctic explorer he'll follow her to the ends of the earth. She says that's good, because that where they're going. The reader's watching through a porthole. Next thing the captain's outside flirting with her. It's a romantic comedy. With a bittersweet ending. The explorer's running away from her true love. Who's an ex-con who lives on a council estate. But no matter how far she goes, she can never escape him. The ship's captain knows this. So even though he's fallen in love with the arctic explorer, he decides to flirt with the reader. Because he trusts her. To stick with him to the end, no matter how corny it gets. Now it is the end. The reader's pregnant. She's in a large house with views of the sea. The captain's boat is coming into port. She can't see it but she knows he's coming back. With a rising sense of horror, the reader realises the worst. It's all going to end happily ever after.

tango en flor (with thanks to hector manuel vidal)

She was softer than the water,
than the soft water,
she was fresher than the river,
orange tree in bloom...
And in that summer street,
lost street,
she left a piece of life
and she left...

First you learn to suffer,
then to love, then to leave,
and finally to walk without thinking...
Scent of orange blossoms,
empty promises of love
that escaped in the wind...
After, does it matter the afterwards?
All my life is the yesterday
that stops me in the past,
eternal and ancient youth
that has left me unnerved
like a bird in the dark.

What have my hands done to her?
What have they done to her
to leave me in the chest
so much pain?
Pain of an old grove,
street corner's song
with a slice of life,
orange tree in bloom...


***

Era mas blanda que el agua,
que el agua blanda,
era mas fresca que el rio,
naranjo en floor...
Y en esa calle de estio,
calle perdida,
dejo un pedazo de vida
y se marcho...

Primero hay que saber sufrir,
despues amar, despues partir
y al fin andar sin pensamiento...
Perfume de naranjo en flor,
promesas vanas de un amor
que se escaparon en el viento...
Despues, que importa el despues?
Toda mi vida es el ayer
que me detiene en el pasado,
eterna y vieja juventud
que me ha dejado acobardado
como un pajaro sin luz.

Que le habran hecho mis manos?
Que le habran hecho
para dejarme en el pecho
tanto dolor?
Dolor de vieja arboleda,
cancion de esquina
con un pedazo de vida,
naranjo en flor..



LYRICS by: Homero Exposito