Cadere (Act I)

Prologo: La Lettera (I)

We rose like eagles. We soared. We dared to touch the sky. Then the sky looked down and spat on us.

And what have we done to stop it? Nothing. I suppose that's what we're trying to do now. To stop it, to stop something, to pick up the pieces of the jar we just dropped on our kitchen floor.

But can we pick up the pieces? An old friend told me that it's hopeless. We all die. He's dead now, so I suppose in a twisted sort of way, he was right.

It's all twisted, regardless of whether he was right or wrong. There are so few of us left, not enough of us with brooms and dustpans, too many of us with more jars to throw on the floor. We can only make things worse. We have only made things worse.

I've tried. I've swept up what I can, I've kept the shattered pieces in my arms for as long as I could. I tried to pick up more pieces, even as my arms were carrying more than they could. A cup overflowing with water is spilling. Arms overflowing with pieces are dropping. Shoulders overflowing with people are collapsing.

I've tried. What has that done to me? I am a monster. We are all monsters, except the one who wasn't, and we killed him too.

Perhaps that was worded too heavily. Perhaps I am not a monster. But I am a homeless man.