Monologue

Stranger Monologue from To Damascus

From To Damascus by August Strindberg

male · anguished · 1:25 min

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What illusions you must have! Childish! I lift you up! I who am down below. Yet I'm not; it's not I who sit here, for I'm dead. I know that my soul's far away, far, far away.... (He stares in front of him with an absent-minded air)... where a great lake lies in the sunshine like molten gold; where roses blossom on the wall amongst the vines; where a white cot stands under the acacias. But the child's asleep and the mother's sitting beside the cot doing crochet work. There's a long, long strip coming from her mouth and on the strip is written... wait... 'Blessed are the sorrowful, for they shall be comforted.' But that's not so, really. I shall never be comforted. Tell me, isn't there thunder in the air, it's so close, so hot? WOMAN (looking out of the window). No. I can see no clouds out there....

About this piece

The Stranger reflects on his own death and the unattainable peace he envisions, while addressing a woman who remains unaware of the turmoil within him.

40s · despair · death · isolation · longing · family

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