Unmade – are posts about what I would like to do and couldn’t find a way to do it. Either no performers or no financial possibilities. Usually no performers because my ideas are often too pornographic, too emotional, transgressive, too truthful without any possibility of hiding behind a controllable Persona.
Table at the window
It is very early in the morning. Its raining. Is like they woke up too early to get somewhere administrative. Now they enjoy their cup of coffee and silence. They are both in their home clothes, the ones they’ve been sleeping in.
Are we alive?
I don’t know.
You don’t believe in death, don’t you.
You have to live.
[As a teenager’s impatience and lack of knowledge, of conscience of death. They don’t know what that is, they cant identify with it]
Brona drinks his small cup of coffee. He looks upset outside the window. He doesn’t want to go anywhere.
I dreamed last night. I mean this morning. [I never dreamed anything since I was a child]
It must be because of this rain.
I dreamed that I was sleeping underwater. And I woke up scared and swam to the surface. It was a big pool in a ruined construction. And there was a little girl that helped me get out of the water. She said she was waiting for me. Crazy, no? And she asked me for the place of the gates of heaven, and I showed her. And I entered in her and became one with her. Crazy, no? But in the end she became dried, burned bushes. And I woke up. Crazy no?
Kosan likes his dream. It made him feel alive and pulsating. He was the gate keeper.
But the air in this room is dark gray. Brona has no reaction to him. Is like Kosan’s story is the most boring story ever.
They continue the silence, the coffee. The morning cold summer day.
Can I dress you today? // can i touch you to enter oracle today?
Brona looks at him, but doesn’t give any answer.
I am afraid.
Nothing, nothing [yet]
Brona feels the future, feels the events of the world, all over the world. There are some feelings that he doesn’t understands.
Kosan spreads flowers on the floor, near a wall arranged like an altar. An altar to some forest deity.
Chair at the window
Brona sits on a chair with his back to the window. Kosan is near him. Taking his clothes off. This is a game. A game of getting close without talking, without sharing ideas, but feelings, a game about opening up in front of the others inner world.
Tell me your first memory.
Brona looks at him, very slowly and without any desire to open his mouth.
My first memory…
Yes, since you were a baby.
Each time he says ‘I remember’ Brona multiplies, until he becomes a bundle of 7. Out of all the Bronas is not the main one that speaks. Not one says anything. His voice is like a thought, a thought away from time and space.
To the main Brona, Kosan cuts off the clothes, cuts them to piece them apart, not to take out Brona’s flesh. He slices Brona. He brakes Brona apart.
… I remember nothing, I remember a dark quietude. A shapeless time. And a thick smell of sperm.
But how was your first day.
I woke up when I was 5. My head was bleeding. My mother tried to pick me up but I was afraid. She was drunk she dropped me in a ditch. I remember I ran away. I ran all the day until it was night. I woke up then. Violently, suddenly.
I hate waking up.
Kosan kisses him. Kisses his skin, as a sign of understanding and compassion. Brona is one again.
Kosan is cutting his clothes.
There is nothing out there?
[Yes] there is nothing.
No murders, no violence, no injustice?
No abuse, no evil, no suffering
No, nothing ugly or beautiful.
That is good. I was scared. I though it will burst in all over us.
No, there is nothing out there.
That is good.
I can now live for 1000 years more.
Brona is naked now. Completely cut out.
Brona gets up and lies down on the floor towards the Flower Shrine. His face and mouth is between the flowers.
I miss death, I miss imperfection, I miss violence, I miss flesh and meat.
He grabs the flowers and pulls them to his chest. He then turns and stand in his butt with the flowers in his arms.
Brona at the wall. continuous
Brona sits on the flowers with his butt. His cock is hard and his legs apart, his back is touching the wall behind.
He looks up. Kosan comes near him and puts his hand on the spread cock. He is listening to the cock with his hand. Than puts his hand on his forehead as a saintly anointment.
Kosan take a flower and puts it near his hard cock. Brona multiplies again in 7.
Kosan bows again between Brona’s legs and tastes his cock. Kosan blows him gently, somehow in tune with Brona’s inside feelings. Kosan stretches his hand on Brona’s naked chest as to hear with it his soul.
Brona sings and speaks in tongues and sings weird noises.
Kosan’s head between Brona’s legs between flowers and cock. Brona cums. Sperm comes out of Kosan mouth down Bronas cock, down between the flowers.
Kosan takes sperm and mixes it with wine. Puts in two small cups and they drink together. Brona is not eager to do it. Kosan puts the small cup to his mouth.
He thinks that maybe because of the trance Brona is tired.
Brona is silent now. He takes his eyes from the sky and looks, for the first time in the eyes of Kosan.
Kosan is dressing Brona.
Then looking back at Brona asks.
Are we alive?
No, not yet.
When we’ll be ready? When we’ll begin our faith?
It will all begin when bombs will flow onto your breath. ++++
He sits beside Brona.
How was it?
I saw +++++
And what will you do?
Nothing. I will wait for it to happen.
I never understood why you go and see all this things if you don’t do anything about it. If no one asks you for them.
In there is my home.
We see Kosan’s eyes crying. But not his face. He is not human yet. His feelings are not yet his. He is yet apart from all that is happening to his body and mind.
Time is still not passing.
Fade to white