The freedom that arrives with JENNIFER’s entrance is palpable to all of us present. So excited is the air trailing her that life itself is there awakened. Grass and flowers grow in her wake, filling in her footprints and spreading. The puddles she steps through splash in such a way as to produce in us absolute delight. Noticing the flowers that have grown behind her, she stops and turns to go back and smell them all, every last one. As she bends and moves slowly along them, she pees, allowing urine to run freely down her legs. She moves back through the now grown-over path by which she entered, and even more plant life sprouts up behind her, making the already lush growth even more so. All at once, as though they’d always been there, bees are busy moving from flower to flower and tiny things with legs crawl, perching on blades of grass, some finding their way onto JENNIFER’s bare legs. Her amber dress is thin and breezy. It seems to have its own source of gentle wind rippling its fabric.
The growth that trails JENNIFER has not ceased nor slowed as she’s continued to discover new sights and smells every time she turns. But this is not a very large stage. Each new generation is larger, thicker than the last. They grow over one another, first taller, then crowding out the older, their thick roots and vines eventually pushing down and choking those that came before.
JENNIFER is delighted, and so are we. The smell is fantastic, and we’re looking at brilliant green with bursts of every color imaginable.
The sun has not set once during this whole time and with this new abundance of flora, the room has become very, very warm. As a result, JENNIFER has unbuttoned a few buttons on the front of her dress.
The buzzing sound of insects has risen in volume, but there no longer seems to be much movement from them. At most we perhaps see two bees sweating on a leaf, one wiping its brow and one trying to make up its mind between flying to seek shade or just lying down. Likely this is only a hallucination brought on by the heat, but the fact it can be confirmed by multiple audience members points to some other explanation.
JENNIFER is singing. Her voice is low and her volume is fairly quiet. There are no distinct words in her song, but it sounds as though maybe there once were, and she’s forgotten them or decided they weren’t important and now sings the tune in what sounds like a mumbled invented language. The song and her voice are soothing, melting into the heat.
When JENNIFER removes her dress entirely, it’s with such slowness as seems impossible, but the way the vines hold the fabric it appears to float off of her and she simply steps out of it. The only indication now that what’s happening on stage is not actually happening in slow motion is that the greenhouse effect of this room and the dense forest inside it have caused condensation to build up to the point that now it’s raining and the raindrops fall at a completely real speed.
The way the absolutely massive rain-forest leaves brush across JENNIFER’s bare body would, in some other context, be utterly lewd and entirely pornographic as truly they seem to fully cup every curve that exists on her, but the extreme warmth and thick humidity is relaxing our outrage. Whatever muscles would tense against this affront to decency feel loose and probably we can admit that there are parts of ourselves we’d rather like to have cupped by a big strong jungle leaf every now and again or maybe forever as we, like JENNIFER, breathe one final, tiny crushed breath, exhaling into the unrecognizable sounds of somewhere unfamiliar.
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