Blue as the Seoul Sky

 

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Blue as the Seoul Sky

(Morning Notes)

W dreams. He is a man who lives between two continents and a single pair of worn-out shoes.

THE SETTING

A space in flux. First, the Far East: a clinical white, endless avenues, and elevators that ascend to the heavens. Then, the Americas: a cramped side-street, the smell of smog, and the unbearable weight of out-of-season fruit.

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I. THE HOLE IN THE WALL

Professor W stands in an agora of lime-white, crowded with ghosts. Suddenly, a vacuum. The Forum attendees depart for a tribute to "H"—a man of whom no one knows if he died or if he never existed at all.

W wanders through interminable hallways, climbing and descending stairs as a physiological urgency consumes him. He finds a cubicle: it is not a restroom, but an office; there is no toilet, only a tiny hole in the wall at ankle height. To use it, W must perform the choreography of a contortionist: he lifts a leg, presses his cheek to the floor, and bends himself like a misspelled letter.

As he unburdens his grief, two silent witnesses appear: two women in their early twenties. They watch him with scientific curiosity. They also wish to use the facility, but W informs them that this is not a restroom; it is a cabinet for scientific journals.

“They’re looking for you, you know... You were supposed to give a lecture, and then you vanished.”

W exits the room with a deconstructed stride.

II. THE ELEVATOR THAT SMELLS OF NOTHING

W is in Seoul (or what he believes to be Seoul). Everything is clean, vast, and silent. He boards a glass elevator that floats above empty avenues. Inside, two other young women recognize him.

—“You were supposed to give a lecture.”

—“I have given lectures everywhere,” W replies, “but the audience never arrived... they all left to follow someone named H.”

W compares his worlds. Over there, in the Americas, there is only noise, faceless crowds, and the scent of burnt gunpowder. Here, in the sky of the East, there are only invisible walls and manicured gardens that block your path. He boards the wrong bus, speaks to a non-existent driver, and ends up buying a carnivorous plant he has no idea how to feed.

III. THE GATE AND THE FIST

Back in reality. W carries thirty pounds of oranges on his shoulder. The plastic bag is on the verge of splitting open. It is a one-man procession toward his apartment.

Then, He appears: The Neighbor with the Small Dog. The ideal of beauty and composure. W dreams that this man will save him, carry his oranges, and walk him to his kitchen. But reality has other plans.

—“How are you today, sir?” the Neighbor asks.

Strike one. The formal “Sir” is a wall of ice.

W tries to be funny; he sticks his tongue out from the physical strain, searching for a connection. The Neighbor reaches out his hand. W expects a warm handshake, but the Neighbor closes his hand. A fist bump. W, hands occupied by plastic bags, awkwardly knocks his inexperienced fist against the other’s. A clumsy, sad collision of worlds. The Neighbor leaves. W is left alone with his key and his exhaustion.

IV. THE BRIDGE OF ACCEPTANCE (The Final Dream)

In one last blink before dawn, W returns to the white bridge. The Neighbor is far off in the distance, walking his dog. W carries his oranges. He no longer expects anyone to help.

—“You didn’t help me with the bags!” W shouts.

—“It’s because they’re too heavy!” the Neighbor calls back from afar.

W sits on the ground. He understands that the oranges are heavy because they are real. He understands that the Neighbor is distant because that is the geometry of desire. There is no applause. No magical redemption. Only a man sitting with his fruit on an infinite bridge.

V. THE LONG SATURDAY

W wakes up. It is ten in the morning. It is Saturday.

He stares at the ceiling. He feels the ache in his shoulder. There is no Seoul, there are no spectators, and there are no neighbors in his room. Only the silence of a hard-won retirement.

W does not get up. He does not make juice. He does not face the day. He decides that the ultimate act of rebellion against the absurd is to close his eyes again and inhabit his own solitude—which now, finally, no longer feels as heavy as the oranges.

FIN.

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Love, Et Cetera

Love, Et Cetera

 

By Gavarre Benjamin

 

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 © INDAUTOR

Cd. De México

©  BENJAMÍN GAVARRE SILVA

Contact: bengavarre@gmail.com

gavarreunam@gmail.com

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Love, Et Cetera

(The Indifferent Geometry of Desire and the Unreal Light)

by Benjamín Gavarre

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INTRODUCTION

"Love, Et Cetera" is not just a comedy about the intellectual bourgeoisie; it is a surgical dissection of codependency and existential void in the age of over-intellectualization. The author places us in an environment where language—philosophy, psychoanalysis, translation—serves not to communicate, but to build walls and trenches.

I. Anatomy of the Protagonists

• Francesca and Julian (Power and the Parasite): Francesca (Fran) is the backbone. As a psychoanalyst, she possesses the "clinical eye" but suffers from selective emotional blindness. Her relationship with Julian is a modern take on the tragedy of displaced motherhood. Julian, the "composer" without music, is the eternal puer aeternus; a manipulator who uses his immaturity as a defensive weapon.
• Henry and Helen (Cynicism and Absence): Henry represents the exhaustion of reason. He has replaced life with concepts and affection with alcohol. Helen is the one who suffers most from loneliness. Her role as a "supposed" translator is metaphorical: she tries to translate Henry’s silence into something resembling love, without success.

II. The Ontology of the "Unreal Light"

The central technical device is the rupture of realism through the Unreal Light. These passages are moments of visceral truth. Everyday reality is the mask, while the dreamscape is the manifestation of the unconscious that dares not speak in the real world.

G.

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STAGING PROPOSAL

• Space: Minimalist design. Francesca’s apartment suggests cold elegance. A home bar is the central axis.
• Lighting: Chiaroscuro. Rapid transitions (switches) between reality and the Unreal Light (saturated violet or amber tones).
• Music: A solitary and discordant piano blues during transitions.

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SCENE 1: THE BAR

[Francesca’s Apartment. Home bar. Warm interior light. HENRY and JULIAN on one side; HELEN and FRANCESCA on the other. A clear visual divide between the two groups.]

JULIAN. ― Women... Do you actually get them?

HENRY. ― I make an effort to understand Helen.

JULIAN. ― No, not me. I don’t even try... Getting Fran.

HENRY. ― (Finishes his drink) I’d like another one. On the rocks.

[RAPID LIGHTING CUT: The men’s side goes dark.]

HELEN. ― She said, “Is your husband’s name Henry? How funny!” I told her, “He’s not my husband and I don’t see the joke.”

FRANCESCA. ― Julian wanted us to get a pet, a dog, can you imagine?... But I wasn't having it. Taking care of something, of someone... Out of the question.

[UNREAL LIGHT - VIOLET]

HELEN. ― (Toward Francesca) I’m not your friend; I’m the mirror where you confirm that you aren’t quite as broken. You absorb other people's lives like a vampire. "Translator"? For God’s sake, Fran... You can’t even translate your own desires. Your "career" is the cheapest costume in this room.

FRANCESCA. ― (Gélida) You are my pet, Helen. I keep you close to remind myself that I’m not an unfinished draft like you.

[SWITCH TO NORMAL LIGHT - PC HYPOCRISY]

HELEN. ― You see, I’m actually quite good at taking care of things. I’d love to have a child right now.

FRANCESCA. ― (Takes her hands gently) That’s magnificent, darling. Your work as a translator is so spiritual, so invisible... I understand you’re in that creative "sabbatical" period. Having this safe space to talk without judgment is vital for our mental health.

HELEN. ― I value your selfless guidance so much, Fran. You’re such a great person.

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SCENE 2: SMOKE AND DESIRE

[Light switch to the men. JULIAN opens a metal tin.]

JULIAN. ― For as long as I can remember, I’ve been tied to women. They’ve dominated my life. (Rolls a joint) Anyone?

HENRY. ― Always.

JULIAN. ― Me neither... Ha, ha.

[Amber spotlight on the smoke. Switch to the women.]

FRANCESCA. ― Julian... he’s not as sexual as he claims to be. He flirted with you, didn't he? He does it as a prank. Meaningless flings.

HELEN. ― Why do you say he’s not sexual?

FRANCESCA. ― Not with me.

[The light expands to both groups. Melancholy piano.]

JULIAN. ― “I cannot hold you, nor let you go...”

HENRY. ― “Nor know why, in leaving or in keeping...”

JULIAN. ― “Some strange 'I-don’t-know-what' makes me love you...”

HENRY. ― “And many an 'I-know-well-why' to forget you...” Cheers, Professor... How does the rest go?

HENRY. ― Take it easy... don’t ask for that much.

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SCENE 3: THE DUEL OF MIRRORS

JULIAN. ― She makes a pretty good living. She doesn't mess with me in a professional way.

HENRY. ― I see. She doesn't analyze you.

JULIAN. ― Hardly ever. She says I’m a classic case of “Don Juan Syndrome,” that I’m unconsciously trying to resolve a homosexual conflict.

HENRY. ― I think the same thing.

JULIAN. ― Whoa, Professor!

[UNREAL LIGHT - DENSE AMBER. They lean in close.]

HENRY. ― Think about it, Julian. What you feel for me isn't desire; I’m your safety net. You’re using me as your first exit strategy.

JULIAN. ― (Grabs him by the lapels) That’s a hell of a way to deny what you feel too… Why don't you have the balls to kiss me and end this theater?

HENRY. ― (Gélido) Because if I kiss you, you become real. And I’d rather you keep needing my help.

[SWITCH TO NORMAL LIGHT - PC HYPOCRISY]

JULIAN. ― (A "bro" laugh) You’re too much, Henry! Seriously, philosophy is drying out your brain. You almost had me convinced you were actually analyzing me.

HENRY. ― (Cynical smile) Occupational hazard. One gets used to theorizing about the nonsense our friends desire. Don’t take it to heart; it’s just drunk dialectics. Cheers.

JULIAN. ― Cheers, Professor. But you’re one step away from asking me to lie down on your couch.

HENRY. ― You wish.

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SCENE 4: DINNER AND THE ANIMAL

[Uniform, white dining room light.]

FRANCESCA. ― What are you thinking about so deeply, Professor? Any new theory on the human condition?

HENRY. ― I was wondering if man is a creature of habit.

FRANCESCA. ― And?

HENRY. ― I think... just to keep up the habit, man behaves like a creature.

FRANCESCA. ― Speak for yourself.

JULIAN. ― Want to hear a preview of the blues track I’m writing?

FRANCESCA. ― I already know the lyrics… When are you adding the music?

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SCENE 5: AFTER DINNER AND INVISIBILITY

[Bluish dawn light. Francesca and Henry alone.]

FRANCESCA. ― And what does Philosophy say? Still teaching?

HENRY. ― Those are two different questions. Are you actually interested?

FRANCESCA. ― No.

HENRY. ― What a relief.

FRANCESCA. ― You’re very lucky to have Helen.

HENRY. ― She is. (Pause) I just wish she had some idea of what to do with her life.

[UNREAL LIGHT - AMBER. Helen appears behind Henry.]

HELEN. ― Liar. You don't miss being alone; you miss the right to be an idiot without witnesses.

HENRY. ― (Toward the void) I liked being an idiot without witnesses. Touché.

[SWITCH TO NORMAL LIGHT - PC HYPOCRISY]

HENRY. ― Forgive me, Helen. I’m sorry if my silences hurt you.

HELEN. ― (Understanding) I deeply respect your need for isolation, love. It’s part of your inner richness.

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SCENE 6: THE REFLECTION OF THE MOTHER

[Flashback / Unreal Light. Francesca at the mirror. Julian in the chair with the Times.]

FRANCESCA. — He acts like a child. And me, I’m the perfect fool who indulges his every whim. Like I’m his mother!

JULIAN. — Shut up.

FRANCESCA. — We don’t even make love anymore.

JULIAN. — What about last night?

FRANCESCA. — That was an excellent massage, Julian, thank you.

JULIAN. — I’m fed up!

FRANCESCA. — He’s fed up? Your "many" lovers call ME at my own house. You could at least apologize.

JULIAN. — You’re with me, aren't you? That should be enough.

FRANCESCA. — You’re an idiot. You’d starve without me.

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SCENE 7: THE CLIMAX AND THE SHADOW

[Back at the bar. Everyone present. Tense atmosphere.]

HELEN. ― I feel sick. Disoriented. I wake up with this inexplicable pain.

FRANCESCA. ― It’s called anxiety.

HELEN. ― Fran... you’ve become very important to me. You’re my best friend.

FRANCESCA. ― (Without standing up) You too...

[JULIAN and HENRY enter drunk.]

JULIAN. ― We’re back! Helen felt sick and took an Uber. Come on, Fran, we brought tequila.

FRANCESCA. ― No, thanks. I’ll leave you two to it. (Exits).

[UNREAL LIGHT - JULIAN AND FRANCESCA]

JULIAN. ― (Toward Henry) Look at me, Professor. Stop quoting dead books; please tell me what you feel for me.

FRANCESCA. ― (Enters and observes) You two are a disaster. You're perfect for each other—the old and the young, completing the circle. How tedious. My destiny is to be alone. I have it resolved. It’s only a matter of time before the final solitude.

[TIME JUMP - MONTHS LATER]

FRANCESCA. ― Is the child Henry’s, Helen?

HELEN. ― Whose else would it be?

[The doorbell rings. JULIAN and HENRY enter.]

JULIAN. ― Hey Fran, good to see you. Helen invited me.

FRANCESCA. ― She invited you to MY house?

JULIAN. ― Calm down, we’re leaving soon. We just came to pick up Helen.

FRANCESCA. ― (Explodes) I don’t know why you had to come here. Haven't you people heard of phones? Just go… leave me in peace! (She cries).

JULIAN. ― (Approaches) I’m sorry, Fran. I didn't call because I wanted to see you—in person. I’m an idiot who still loves you... in my own way. Don’t push me away.

FRANCESCA. ― Hell of a way to love me.

JULIAN. ― It’s the only one I’ve got.

[They hug. Henry and Helen nod.]

HELEN. ― Let’s toast! To love, and to my son.

FRANCESCA. ― That sounds lovely, but let’s toast to all of us instead! Because we’re here... together.

[A sharp, metallic bell rings.]

FRANCESCA. ― Julian, go open the door; that must be the pizza.

JULIAN. ― Like old times, Fran?

FRANCESCA. ― Yes, Julian. Like old times.

[Julian and Francesca kiss. Henry and Helen look at each other and approve.]

[SOUND: The doorbell rings again with a strange, deep musical note. LIGHTING: Suddent, blinding white light over the door.]

[Julian opens the door. A man enters, dressed entirely in white with a mask. His hands are as white as milk. He remains static.]

[The two couples stare at him with dread and disbelief.]

[SOUND: The piano plays a final, dry, powerful chord.]

TOTAL BLACKOUT.

THE END.