Bob Wilson atua e dirige esse monólogo magnífico que se intensifica por três aspectos: a marcante técnica sonora, a maquiagem impressiva e o texto de Samuel Beckett. Texto que da asas a imaginação do espectador na interpretação vívida de Bob, mesmo que esta seja essencialmente a fala. Um espetáculo inebriante!
Segue um dos trechos mais comoventes:
"She lay streched out on the floorboards with her hands under her head and her eyes closed. Sun blazing down, bit of a breeze, water nice and lively. I noticed a scratch on her thigh and asked her how she came by it. Picking gooseberries, she said. I said again I thought it was hopeless and no good going on, and she agreed, without opening her eyes. (Pause.) I asked her to look at me and after a few moments--(pause)--after a few moments she did, but the eyes just slits, because of the glare. I bent over her to get them in the shadow and they opened. (Pause. Low.) Let me in. (Pause.) We drifted in among the flags and stuck. The way they went down, sighing, before the stem! (Pause.) I lay down across her with my face in her breasts and my hand on her. We lay there without moving. But under us all moved, and moved us, gently, up and down, and from side to side".
O texto na íntegra aqui.