Water bear Water bear what do you see?

Week 1 and 2 completed.
Stories written and shared.
The writer has been writing, we (the performers) have been writing, dancing, playing, speaking...

We devising this piece, and entering a process of no return.

FEAR, STRUGGLE, RESILIENCE, SURVIVAL, DETERMINATION, EMPTINESS...

THIS IS A WATER BEAR:



These Extremophiles can survive extreme conditions.
This is beautiful.
I would like one.

I WROTE THIS IN ANSWER TO SOME QUESTIONS POSED ABOUT DYING, IT IS JUST A STUDIO EXERCISE:

I WILL DIE

I WILL DIE

And when I leave what will I leave behind?

A two bedroom flat, with my half eaten breakfast on the table next to my morning mug of tea, and the unopen bank statements piling up on the sideboard?

Will the sheets be crisp and fresh and recently laundered, or still warm and full of the smell of me and many a well slept night of dreaming?

I want to leave my children behind, I owe them to the future and the future to them. And if I have done any good, said any good, lived any good, pleased someone, loved someone, helped someone, held someone, listened, touched or witnessed, may that be left behind too.

May others enjoy what I have enjoyed, over and over and over again.

Keep sucking at it till its dry

I WILL DIE

I WILL DIE

And when I do, let others rejoice, “She is dead!”

I owe you that, I owe you no suffering.

I owe you nothing, I leave you nothing.

Burn the bank statements and the bed sheets, wash the bowls and the cups.

And please just bury me in the earth, and let the earthworms nestle, the vultures peck out my eyes, and the maggots fester, till I am all used up.

For my deeds have all been done.

I WILL DIE.

I AM NOTHING.

AND I WILL DIE.

                                                                                                                                                            



THIS IS AN EXTRACT FROM SOME WRITING ON FEAR:

.... Paralysed by love. Paralysed by fear. Holding fear. Seeing fear in front of me. Being fear. Urgh. A pain immense like serpents squeezing the blood flow to all your arteries, forcing your heart to panic and pant like a tired dog. A dog. He’s having heart palpitations. I feel like a dog. One of those dogs that people buy as presents for Christmas after years of yearning, and are so excited, elated and euphoric about but then inevitably discard and send back to the dogs home with teary goodbyes once reality sets in. Shit....