Monologue

Stranger Monologue from To Damascus

From To Damascus by August Strindberg

any · anguished · 29 sec

Then I've no luck, for I wanted to do the same. Dry your eyes, child, and be yourself! As hard, and lacking in feeling, as you really are! You mustn't touch me. When your words and glances weren't enough, you always wanted to touch me. You'll excuse a rather trivial question: are you hungry?

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