Monologue

Stranger Monologue from To Damascus

From To Damascus by August Strindberg

any · melancholic · 1:58 min

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All the better: you have a future. How I wish I were your old blind father, whom you could lead to the market place to sing for his bread. My tragedy is I cannot grow old that's what happens to children of the elves, they have big heads and never only cry. I wish I were someone's dog. I could follow him and never be alone again. I'd get a meal sometimes, a kick now and then, a pat perhaps, a blow often. But I am not a dog, I am a man, and I am alone. I am a stranger in this world, wandering through the shadows of my own existence, searching for a connection that eludes me. I see the faces of those around me, but they are mere reflections, echoes of a life I cannot touch. I long for companionship, for the warmth of another's presence, yet I am trapped in this solitude, this endless night. What is it to be human if not to share in the joys and sorrows of life? To laugh and to weep, to love and to lose? I am denied these simple pleasures, condemned to roam the earth like a ghost, forever yearning for the light of understanding, the embrace of kinship. I am a stranger, and in my heart, I carry the weight of a thousand unspoken words.

About this piece

The Stranger expresses a deep sense of longing and regret, wishing for companionship and a simpler existence, reflecting on the burdens of life and the desire for connection.

40s · longing · isolation · identity · fate

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