Cristina Fusco

Rhoda, The Waves by Virginia Woolf

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[A man, standing alone in a field]

He hesitated for a second and stood there, waiting for a sign that would lead him. After that encounter he didn’t feel like going home. He walked for a while, not knowing where he was going. He felt disconnected - he moved aimlessly through the field and encountered a hidden entrance.

[Going trough the entrance, towards the inside]

He went in - he needed to accustom to the humid air and the bleak light. The walls were layered and rough - maybe it was a thousand years old, maybe it wasn’t finished yet. He was in the center of this garden-site, where the water was almost still and flowing without any noise. He looked at the others. Only by looking closer could he distinguish the greenish colour of their skin, the seaweed that had been growing for many years.

[The blue room]

He heard falling water to his right, and followed the sound into a small, blue room. The basin was deep and crafted out of an intense blue stone. He looked at the reflections of the water on the walls and suddenly remembered when he met his own reflection many years ago. Only then he noticed it had been raining for 4 years and two months now. He felt weary, but something caught his attention. He walked through the forest of columns and found a very small room. It was deep green and light came from above. Looking up the ceiling, he could see the fish flying by on the outside.

Scene:

A man, standing alone in a street. Nearby there is a field with an elm tree.

Narrator:

He hesitated for a second and stood there, waiting for a sign. After that meeting he didn’t feel like going home. He walked for a while, not knowing where he was going. He felt disconnected - he moved aimlessly through the field and encountered a hidden entrance. Everything was in stone, maybe thousand years old, maybe abandoned, maybe unfinished. He went in. It was cold and wet. He was in the center of this garden-site, where the water was almost still and flowing without any noise. He looked at the others. Only by looking closer could he distinguish that greenish colour of their skin, the seaweed that had been growing for many years. He followed the noise of the water falling on his right and went into a room. His eyes needed a second to adjust to the light. The room was in stone and it was kind of somber, only illuminated by the openings in the vaults. The colour of the water basin was intensified by the ceramics. He looked at the reflections of the water on the walls and suddenly remembered when he met his own reflection many years ago. He went back to the court in the middle, only then he noticed it had been raining for 4 years and two months now. He felt weary, but something caught his attention. He walked through the field of columns and found a very small room. It was marine blue and the floor was wet. Looking up the vault, he could see the fish flying by on the outside.