/performance space filled with sawdust and small people bustling with small tools and trinkets. a few thick ropes hang from the ceiling, nearly touching the ground. sounds of small stream trickling. crickets. tractor in the distance. shortwave radio sounds blip in and out. someone is setting up a carnival nearby. smells like the earth/
[old man enters dressed in one piece work suit with a rifle under his arm. removes his hat. lays the rifle against a bench. begins working on a piece of wood, pausing to speak every so often]
old man : this isn't what you think it is
[puts tool down. slowly scans audience then selects another tool. begins working again]
old man : or even what you thought it was. i once thought is was with think. would think. as thick as wood. [holds up the piece of wood to examine it] or a while at least taking. [puts wood back down] i don't have any stories left so don't expect it. all been taken. no animals left. sold. not even a dog. all dead.
