Musician:  Life is like a clock. Once the hand passes a certain point, there is no turning back. And every life has to start from somewhere, so does every clock. I mean the clock is a symbol of the starting and the ending of something like alive example in the human life.

Storyteller: The clock … or is it?…There surely is a lot of things that can do a sound like this… I may be wrong … No,no,no, that must be a clock. I’m pretty sure that this is the sound which clock makes. What is happening now? Did it stop?  Or did someone stop it?  I used to listen to the sound … it made me feel calm and relaxed, confident and determined…

Open-wide eyes… and light. Oh, my God !Ah, that radiant light! It’s so scorching. It’s illuminating my insides. My heart is beating so fast and loudly and it is so bright – as if it was a scarlet wild strawberry deeply hidden beneath the bushy leaves of oblivion.

Light:  The light. I clean the dusty and webbed shelves scattered and lost deep  in your minds. Look! Here are your fears, there are your feelings. …Ya – from the most precious to the most worthless, from the top to the bottom. And the daily tasks of your left …

But look over there! There, on the corner … What’s that. I’ll approach it slowly and  cautiously. Some more …

Wow! I didn’t expect to find the dreams here. Their lining order is chaotic and unstable – high, low, low, low, high, low, high…

As if it’s a walk through the luxuriant forest of yearnings, expectations and believes.

The smell of daisies, bellflowers, chamomiles….

It’s so enchanting as if it was a miracle! Oh, on second thought, you are the miracle!

Angel and Devil: 

I’m the creator and the destroyer.

I’m the perfection and the degradation.

I can be adorable, generous and open-minded.

I can be scruffy, ruthless and selfish.

I can be  light which  is salvation.

I can be  darkness that is damnation .

I can be redemption.

I can be the endless chaining torture.

I can be everything I want because I am the beginning and the end.

Storyteller:  I saw myself. Tiny black curls surrounded my face. My laughter was running together with the men’s gibberish, women’s giggling and the songs of winds into a soothing tune.

The sunny spells were following the teen hopping over the loved old third generation bike.

The autumn winds were tossing the youngster in different paths: ancient trees, bushy lands, silver springs;

black puddles, running train, moonless;

crowded streets, glimmering lights, skyscrapers.

Ragamuffin:  The dream ahead, the faith and … a ragamuffin.

A ragamuffin with two jingling coins in my pocket… and two hands. I’ve got two hands to slick my forelock, to hug the lover, to eat, to sweep away the tears to uphold my broken body. Untiringly. Infinitude. Forgot to see the sun. How much does the ragamuffin cost?…

Again and again that annoying smell of soup – insipid, almost clear. But, but… This silver-grey color reminds me of dusk when the sunset ends off its glamorous performance. Love meetings, a tiny bed, white sheets of paper – creased of bodies’ harmony head over heels.

Oh, oh, how the soul is creased!

Artist:  I’ll envision it from the beginning to the end. I’ll smooth and polish it. My creation will be alive, it will have a soul and mind of its own that will be constantly changing with the blossom of evolution, with the help of people’s minds  . I’ll draw the greatest masterpiece the world has ever seen with an indescribable perfection. Here are your friends accompanying you through this adventure. Look! Here are the paints,

brushes –  tiny lines, wide ones, here and there dots and dashes.  And I’m ready.

Hey! What? I’ve seen it. The world of the winds. The lord of the water. The course of nature. The blazing user of fire.

Success:  A hanger, a chair a smell of oak, a taste of brandy. Self-oblivion, yearnings, prestige. Days and nights are woven with pain, joy, success and failure. Step by step the skillful craftsmen have been sculpted adorable figures. As you’re looking at, you puff your chest out, bristle and fall silent. Your eyes are filled with their divine beauty.

Angel and Devil:  The winds! Almighty! Run! Fight! Steer clear of them!

Faith:   Don’t worry I am here. You will be alright. I will help you find the peace. Were you treated harshly by life? Were your eyes clouded by life? Forget and release your inner demons, put them to rest by allowing them to drown into the abyss! Put down the lightly twinkling torch you are holding so dearly and carefully. Explore the darkness, accept it for what it is and search within the darkness for the light. If you find it, you’ll find the true faith you have been searching for. And finally the long desired dawn will come.

Don’t worry, I’ m here. Let’s go through the dark nothingness together. I’m your faith. Why have you forgot me? You’re not alone. Hold my hand.

Storyteller: Where am I? Ah, the warm light. How, how do I reach it? That light that is the dawn of this dark and clouded night . Ah I can’t, I’m tired.

Faith: No, you can! We can!

Storyteller: I think about that nipper with the bike, that romantic man. The sight comes to my mind when I think about the roads, the dreams, the misery and prestige. If only I can redeem the light! The longed promise of redemption!

Faith: Wait a second! You still have  two hands and me.

Storyteller: But, what can I leave to the world?

Faith: You can’t see what is hiding out?!

Storyteller: How much does the ragamuffin cost?

Faith:  Nothing! Everything!

Light:  I’m still here.

Success: So,do I.

Artist: And me.

Ragamuffin: Don’t forget about me.

Angel and Devil: Nothing will be the same without us!

Faith: It’s the time of a deep breath.

Storyteller:  I’m here, in the daylight, with my life’s blessings. I’m so, so happy that I’m whole again. Not only with two hands and faith.

The play has ended and everyone is in shock

But don’t you worry, just look at your clock.

THE END