DESCRIPTION:
Text by David Avidan, music by Carmel Raz
Teiva Marathon Festival, November 22, 2013
Yuval Zorn, conductor
Yael Barolsky, violin
Gregory Rivkin, trumpet
Benny Sluchin, trombone
Imri Talgam, piano

Photography: Tal Sohodolsky


David Avidan (translated Carmel Raz)

Reading the Coffee Grounds
A stylized reconstruction of an authentic conversation.
The characters: me, a Syrian woman.

Syrian woman: Do you believe? Really believe? If not, there is nothing.
I: Of course, of course, otherwise nothing, of course, so, will I know?
Syrian woman: Now --- you are eating. A hungry man cannot know. Later, you will know.

(Now I am eating. A hungry man cannot know. But I am not hungry. I am eating purely for pleasure. This time the pleasure will be brief. The dark magic has already cast its shadow on the table entirely. Will I know?)

Syrian woman: Now I will say. You define a purpose, but between you and the purpose there is a black wall. You are imprisoned and cannot escape.

I: Are there no chances of escape?

Syrian woman: Now --- all is black. You sit by your desk, and suddenly the black wall approaches. You go out, breathe the air, think, return, and again the black wall approaches. Do you understand?

I: And an exit? Is there an exit?

Syrian woman: Your heart is black. You cannot be truly happy. You want to live a life of enjoyment, but you are not really happy. Your heart is always black, when you are alone, when it is most important. Do you understand?

(How exactly does she know to touch the most sensitive points? Although primitive, this woman has a far more refined technique than I)

Syrian woman: (after long contemplation) And there is an old woman in this town, close to you and far away, who is holding fast to your heels, and you cannot escape.

I (with a certain discomfort): an old woman? What woman? Where? Are you sure, she is old? Are you sure, she is female? Are you sure it is a person? Perhaps something else?

Syrian woman: it is a person, an old woman. I can see it.

I (demanding a more detailed explanation): She is holding me, but I, will I be able to escape?

Syrian woman: You are free only from your waist upwards, but your heels are held fast. You do not hate her, you even respond with warmth to all the things she does to hurt you. She is blocking all your paths.

I (clearly discomforted): She is blocking all my paths?

Syrian woman: And there are others, who also constrain you. You think they are your friends, but they hate you. Here they are: two men and a third character, unclear.

I: unclear? Is it a ghost.

Syrian woman: it is a person, who cannot be seen. There are people like that.
I: and is there any hope of overcoming this?

Syrian woman: but you have luck for money. One moment it is gone, and then suddenly returns.

I: Suddenly?

Syrian woman: And here is a trip, far away. Not to Haifa. Far away. You are sitting and waiting for it, and any moment expect to depart. It will be your escape, and then you will overcome it.

(Now I am waiting and counting the minutes. Before, I was mourning my condition. But I always saw the black wall. Indeed, who knows when I shall return)

Syrian woman: You shall return tomorrow, early in the morning. Come back tomorrow, on an empty stomach. Come back hungry, and then I shall know more, far more.

(Curtain).

(Two days later, not at the same time)

Syrian woman: Three are running on your path. Three want your path. You will prevail. You can. The question, do you wish it?

I: the question: do I wish it?

Syrian woman: One is slightly taller than you. But the others are smaller than you. You can overcome them, only if you desire.

I: and truly, do I desire?

Syrian woman: You need to travel soon. You must travel soon. Do you want to travel? Soon?

I: I wish to travel, soon.

Syrian woman: So rise and leave now, because here there is a black wall before you, and if you depart it will disappear.

I: and if I depart, will it disappear completely?

Syrian woman: The cup is now empty, and thus ends your story. Now just be careful and make no mistake. You like women, right?

I: and when I leave, will they miss me?

Syrian woman: Now you are not living, just waiting. You are hungry for something, but you are waiting. You taste it, and remain waiting. You are not living life. Tomorrow, perhaps. Later. When you return.

(Now I am not living, just waiting. Tomorrow I will travel, not wait. And then I shall return and wait. I need some caffeine, perhaps.

(Curtain).