Viva La Lorca

Lorca: May I (goes to the easel)

Dali: No. It is not finished. It is still art. It does not smell like a Spain ofpassion and dirt. It does not tear the flesh from my bones to see WHAT I am. It does not drip ...

Lorca: (stops, there's no need to go to the easel, he takes the cup and takes a sip.) Hmm .. Cognac ... (He smiles, but he's going to the easel and pour the coffee over it.)

Lorca: All right. It is dripping. It stinks.


(Laughs at Dali, goes off, Dali stands up, goes to the door, throws himself at the easel, looks at the picture, smells it, he touches the flowing color, licks it off, color in his face)

Dali: Mmmmh. No art. Also no Dali. Not only. (He tries to find out what he tastes like a winemaker tasting his wines, he fills the scent of the picture)

Lorca. Mmmmmmh ... like ... like moon on, on (tastes again) .... On desert sand.

(Moaning softly, with contempt) I love it.

Lorca: I love you! When I've sunk into you. I will not be me anymore. But I will be more. What is moon without sea.

As lost as I am
So irresponsibly sad as you look at me
I want to be your shell.
Would you like to hear your noise,
Because you hold me against you.

Will daily divide your heaven,
And show you that everything is only a part
And each part divided by wind and clouds
By wind and shadow
Everything divides your light.

(He is painting over the wall, still painting, his hands and fingers are bright, the color on his body is already massively distributed on the wall, he wants to paint and paint a single one, but there is not enough dirt in him)

Lorca (lost and angry):
And when I no longer rich,
Maybe someone else will remove you
And under him I shall be lost.
And you will not see me anymore

And then I'll lie here under the moon
And before the sea
And everything will only be an AND
There will be no more

And no reason!
(He cries and falls to his knees)