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MEMORIES OF A REVOLUTION
a show by Mónica Calle
adapted from Heiner Müller's "The Mission"
with
It’s generally the case that traitors do well
when peoples bathe in blood.
IT'S GENERALLY THE CASE TRAITORS DO WELL
WHEN PEOPLES BATHE IN BLOOD
I’m no Lord.
And I’ve seen enough slaughter.
I know the anatomy of human beings inside out.
We sentence you to death, Victor Debuisson.
Because your skin is white.
Because your thoughts underneath your white skin
are white.
Because your eyes have seen the beauty of our sisters.
Because your hands have touched
the nakedness of our sisters.
Because your thoughts have eaten their ***, their bodies, their crotch.
What do you want from me.
What do you want from me.
What can I do about your stump.
And about your rope.
Am I supposed to cut my own leg off.
Do you want me to hang myself next to you.
You’re thinking, I’m doing fine.
You’re thinking, I’m doing fine.
What do you want from me.
Are you hungry.
There, eat.
What do you want from me.
Only the one ever dies.
Then the dead are counted up.
The revolution is the mask of death.
Every one, or no one.
EVERY ONE OR NO ONE
We’re not equal, if we haven’t stripped each other’s skins away.
Who are you.
A peasant from Britanny
who learned to hate the revolution
in the rain of blood of the guillotine.
Loyal servant of the noble Lord Debuisson.
I believe in the holy order of the monarchy and the church.
I believe in the holy order of the monarchy and the church. I believe in the holy order...
Fleeing from the successful black revolution in Haiti
because God created me for slavery.
I am his slave.
Isn’t that enough.
You’re spitting in the wrong direction.
Debuisson, Galloudec, Sasportas.
Our mission: a slave rebellion in Jamaica
against the dominion of the British throne
in the name of the Republic of France.
She who is the motherland of Revolution
the terror of thrones
the hope of the poor.
France needs a bloodbath, and the day will come.
That is equality.
LONG LIVE THE REPUBLIC
What do you have against soccer.
Here are the lips that kissed you, Victor Debuisson.
They remember your skin.
Here are the *** which warmed you, little Victor.
They haven’t forgotten your mouth and your hands.
That’s the lap which received your ***.
It is sometimes necessary to bury one’s head in the sand
(mire stone)
in order to see further.
Revolution is tiring.
I imagine Number One’s despair.
His suicide.
His head, whose portrait decorates all the public offices
on the desk.
Blood from a black-edged hole in the temple
probably right.
I didn’t hear a shot, but that proves nothing.
The walls of his office are of course soundproof.
During construction such incidents have been taken into account
and what happens in the office of the boss
is not the concern of the population.
It’s lonely at the top.
The revolution is the mask of death.
Death is the mask of the revolution.
THE REVOLUTION IS THE MASK OF DEATH
DEATH IS THE MASK OF THE REVOLUTION
What you thought was the dawn of freedom
was only the mask of a new and even more terrible slavery.
Your firm is no longer in the business-register.
It’s bankrupt.
The goods you were selling,
tears, sweat, blood,
aren’t traded anymore in this world.
This discharges you from your mission.
adaptation, stage direction, set-design, lighting design: Mónica Calle
with
special collaboration
special collaboration
special collaboration
Heiner Müller Cycle was produced with the support of Goethe-Institut Portugal
Casa Conveniente is financed by