Monologue

Stranger Monologue from To Damascus

From To Damascus by August Strindberg

any · contemplative · 30 sec

Heaven's blue and silent. The ocean's silent and stupid. Listen, I can hear a poem--that's what I call it when an idea begins to germinate in my mind. First the rhythm; this time like the thunder of hooves and the jingle of spurs and accoutrements. But there's a fluttering too, like a sail flapping.... Banners!

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