In airport terminals, no one can hear you scream…

Well, that isn’t exactly true. The other travelers who are stuck with me in this modern purgatory would probably lynch me if I did. Most of them look worn down beyond their years, victims of an inhumane bureaucracy and deceived by the allure of cheap airline tickets. I’ve managed to settle down decently on a foam mattress on top of a wood pallet that I found in the middle of the terminal. The other passengers are eyeing me with envy, waiting for a chance to steal my refuge. THEY WON’T. THIS IS MY NEW HOME. THEY’LL HAVE TO TAKE IT OVER MY DEAD BODY. I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL GO FERAL ON THESE MOTHERFUC-

Ahem. Sorry, that’s just the insomnia talking. Overall, things aren’t so bad here. The airport is relatively clean, with a modern aesthetic. For some inexplicable reason, this airport seems to have signed a product placement deal with LG, boasting their curved television screens that serve a questionable utility. Nonetheless, the things are everywhere, accompanied by signs extolling their virtues. Clearly, this is the pinnacle of 21^st century technological development. We have entered a new era-

….

Did that person actually offer me money for my makeshift bed? He held in his hand a sum of 2000 rubles. With some quick Google-fu, I calculate its value as nearly 40 USD. I stare at him, bewildered. Is this what long layovers do to people? Considering that I nearly felt driven to murder over furnishings that a homeless man would barely consider adequate, it must be so. The psychiatric community can stage some wonderfully insightful experiments in airport terminals, provided they don’t let little things like ethical concerns get in their OH GOD WILL SOMEONE SHUT THAT BABY UP?!

Ahem. This same man has been patrolling steadily around my small enclave, waiting for an opportunity of weakness. I sharpen a plastic knife in preparation. I consider my options, does the Russian government consider assault and battery charges similar to the United States? Maybe I can frame it as self-defense, hire the Russian Johnny Cochran, possibly pull some favors with the Kremlin-

I must be going mad. How long have I even been here? I’m steadily losing my sense of time. minutes blur into hours. I check my watch. My flight departs at 2:20pm in the afternoon and it’s currently …. 3:00 am.

Bleached white airport lights

Am I in purgatory?

Fourteen more hours….

Staging Idea inspired by The Lower Depth.

The idea popped in my head while I was listening to a sermon.
People instinctively know the sky is 'up' and the earth is 'down'.
We look up to the sky to gain peace. (Like we did after 120 Days of Sodom)
I thought it would be interesting to see  a play in another point of view because people feel that they are always 'under' a presence of bigger creator or a circumstance.

As The Lower Depth represented peoples' lives underground figuratively, I thought I would like to
make actors act under the stage and reflect them up to the stage made out of a mirror.(I am not sure how it will work..yet!) The play would be about something that audience can relate easily, about struggles related to human lives. (money, love, fame, emptiness...)
For some important parts, I would like to use cameras very close to actor's face.

I am enjoying my quite time alone.. not having much things to do.
However it is exciting to see all the stuff I have experienced in Berlin turning into new ideas :)

The end/The Blank Page

COMMON GROUND at Maxim Gorki Theater

COMMON GROUND at Maxim Gorki Theater; directed by Yael Ronen, created by Yael Ronen and the Ensemble (Vernesa Berbo / Niels Bormann / Dejan Bućin / Mateja Meded / Jasmina Musić / Orit Nahmias / Aleksandar Radenković), set by Magda Willi, costumes by Lina Jakelski, video by Benjamin Krieg and Hanna Slak, music by Nils Ostendorf, dramaturgy by Irina Szodruch

Lest We Forget

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

Here, no hope, no gods

Welcome, Ozymandias

Ask now, who were we?