Monologue

Stranger Monologue from To Damascus

From To Damascus by August Strindberg

male · anguished · 1:10 min

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Quiet! I know what you mean. One night... one dreadful, horrible night... Sylvia, my child, when I shut my eyes I see a pale little angel, who slept in my arms when she was ill; and who thanked me when I gave her a present. Where is she whom I long for so and who exists no more, although she isn't dead? You, as you are, seem a stranger, whom I've never known and certainly don't long to see again. If Sylvia at least were dead and lay in her grave, there'd be a churchyard where I could take my flowers.... How strange it is! She's neither among the living, nor the dead. Perhaps she never existed, and was only a dream like everything else. DAUGHTER (wheedling).Father, dear!

About this piece

The Stranger reflects on the loss of his daughter, Sylvia, expressing deep sorrow and confusion over her absence and existence, feeling disconnected from the present and haunted by memories.

40s · longing · love · death · family · identity

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