They don't want to act, they want only to watch, giggling inopportunely, trembling with fear, or dozing tiredly. The stage is empty, the stalls are empty, the spectators in the gallery are cowardly silent. The homeless, who have slept right on the sidewalk, lift their soggy bodies and move away from the light of the spotlights, the shutters in the windows close tighter.
Voilà! Madam and Monsieur, who would like to star in our play? - A buffoon in an old tuxedo and a long-faded top hat and shot-up pants pokes the rare passers-by with his cane, but they shrink into the walls to appear as shadows or specks of mold on the damp stone of the houses. The moon, sickly, pox-covered, rotting eyesore, appeared in the sky, and its pale rays parted the curtains and plucked the rotting scaffolding of London's slums from the thick, damp darkness.
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