<\/p>\n
Una madre a su hija:<\/p>\n
El teatro es algo as\u00ed como una representaci\u00f3n. Es representar algo que se te apareci\u00f3 en la cabeza. Es como una proyecci\u00f3n. Imag\u00ednate que en tu mente aparece un bosque, y en ese bosque hay una mujer que est\u00e1 perdida. Es la noche. La mujer tiene miedo. Entonces t\u00fa quieres proyectar esa imagen porque tal vez esa imagen es un recuerdo. Tal vez eso fue algo que te pas\u00f3 a ti alguna vez en la vida. Tal vez un d\u00eda, cuando eras joven, te perdiste en el bosque y algo te pas\u00f3. Entonces de alguna manera quieres volver a ese lugar para entender lo que te pas\u00f3. O para revivir lo que te pas\u00f3. Quieres volver a estar ah\u00ed, parada, en mitad de la noche, perdida en el bosque. Quieres volver a sentir ese miedo, esa par\u00e1lisis en el cuerpo, ese dolor, ese terror. Tal vez ni siquiera sabes si eso te pas\u00f3 realmente o si fue un sue\u00f1o, o una pesadilla. Entonces como esa imagen que tienes en tu cabeza no te deja dormir, pones un bosque en escena, pones a una actriz, apagas las luces y le dices: imag\u00ednate que eres yo hace muchos a\u00f1os, cuando esto me pas\u00f3 a m\u00ed misma. O tal vez no te pas\u00f3 a ti. Tal vez le pas\u00f3 a tu madre. O a tu abuela cuando era ni\u00f1a. O tal vez le pas\u00f3 a muchas mujeres m\u00e1s. Tal vez incluso la misma actriz alguna vez se perdi\u00f3 en el bosque y sinti\u00f3 que iba a morir esa noche. Y la actriz tambi\u00e9n sinti\u00f3 que en la oscuridad hab\u00eda una bestia escondida que le iba a morder el cuello y se iba a morir desangrada ah\u00ed, tirada en el piso, en plena oscuridad. Devorada por varios lobos, no solo por uno. Por varios. Por cientos. Y la actriz pens\u00f3: \u00bfPor qu\u00e9 a m\u00ed? \u00bfPor qu\u00e9 tuve que salir a caminar cuando estaba oscuro y ten\u00eda que morir en esta noche nublada, sin luna y sin estrellas? Y es que esa mujer, la actriz, o t\u00fa misma, o tu madre, o tu abuela, hab\u00eda escuchado que eso mismo le hab\u00eda pasado antes a muchas otras mujeres. Pero para llegar a la playa hab\u00eda que pasar por el bosque. Por eso esa actriz hab\u00eda salido esa noche de su casa y se hab\u00eda dirigido a ese bosque. Y ella sab\u00eda que esa noche le iba a pasar algo malo. Entonces t\u00fa pones una m\u00fasica de suspenso en esa parte. Y mientras se la devoran los lobos pones una m\u00fasica triste. O pones una m\u00fasica alegre para contraponer los gritos desgarradores de la actriz. Y puedes irte a un intermedio para que la gente salga a tomar aire o a vomitar o a llorar en el ba\u00f1o. Y cuando vuelvan del intermedio puede estar el mar en el escenario. El amanecer. El cielo, las olas, la arena. Las butacas pueden haber desaparecido. Toda la sala del teatro puede ser una gran playa desierta. Entonces la gente se va a tener que sentar en la arena. El sol les va a enceguecer un poco la mirada, pero pronto se van a acostumbrar. Y el p\u00fablico va a esperar que vuelvan a salir las actrices y los actores. Pero nadie va a salir. Solo van a estar las olas. El viento. La nostalgia. Y ah\u00ed van a comprender que la playa est\u00e1 vac\u00eda porque ninguna mujer logr\u00f3 llegar nunca a ver el mar. Entonces las mujeres del p\u00fablico se van a levantar y van a decir: somos las primeras mujeres en cruzar el bosque. Pero no, no es cierto, les van a decir. Seguimos estando en el teatro. Y toda la playa va a desaparecer y van a volver a estar en la sala. Y nadie va a aplaudir y las mujeres se van a ir deprimidas a la casa. Y se van a preguntar: \u00bfQu\u00e9 pasa si salgo a caminar por el bosque esta noche? Algunas van a acostarse a dormir. Pero otras s\u00ed van a ir a internarse en lo profundo del bosque. Algunas van a llevar escopetas. Otras van a salir en grupo, tomadas de las manos. Pero ninguna va a llegar a ver el mar porque siempre algo las va a detener. Siempre va a haber un monstruo que se las coma en el camino. Hasta que un d\u00eda van a sacar la obra de la cartelera porque la gente se va a cansar de ver una historia tan triste. Y van a pasar los a\u00f1os. Y t\u00fa vas a crecer, y te vas a acordar de esta historia que te cont\u00e9 esta noche, sobre el teatro. Y vas a volver a montar la obra. Y entonces, tal vez, despu\u00e9s de muchos, muchos a\u00f1os, al final de tu versi\u00f3n de la obra, alguna mujer logre cruzar ese bosque. Y logre mojarse los pies. Y meterse al agua. Y nadar. Y acostarse desnuda en la arena. Y la gente va a llorar al final de tu obra. Y todo va a ser distinto despu\u00e9s de eso. Va a ser tan distinto, que va a parecer un sue\u00f1o.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
A mother to her daughter:<\/p>\n
The theatre is something like a representation. It\u2019s representing something that appears in your head. It\u2019s like a projection. In your mind, imagine that a forest appears, and in that forest, there is a woman who is lost. It\u2019s night. The woman is scared. So you want to project that image because perhaps that image is a memory. Perhaps this was something that happened to you once in your life. Perhaps one day, when you were young, you got lost in the forest and something happened to you. So in a way, you want to go back to that place to understand what happened to you. Or to relive what happened to you. You want to go back to being there, stopped, in the middle of the night, lost in the forest. You want to go back to feeling that fear, that paralysis in the body, that pain, that terror. Perhaps you don\u2019t even know if that really happened to you or if it was a dream, or a nightmare. So as this image you have in your head does not let you sleep, you put a forest on stage, you put a female\u00a0 actor there, you turn off the lights and you say to her: Imagine that you are me many years ago, when this happened to me. Or perhaps it didn\u2019t happen to you. Perhaps it happened to your mother. Or to your grandmother when she was a girl. Or perhaps it happened to many more women. Perhaps even the same female actor one time got lost in the forest and felt that she was going to die that night. And the female actor also felt that there was a beast hidden in the darkness that was going to bite her neck and she was going to bleed to death there, thrown to the ground, in total darkness. Devoured by several wolves, not only by one. By several. By hundreds. And the female actor thought, why me? Why did I have to go out for a walk when it was dark and why did I have to die on this cloudy night, without a moon and without stars? And it happens that this woman, the female actor, or you yourself, or your mother, or your grandmother, had heard that this same thing had happened before to many other women. But to get to the beach one had to go through the forest. That is why the female actor had gone out from her house that night and had gone toward that forest. And she knew that something bad would happen to her that night. So, you put suspenseful music in that part. And while the wolves devour her, you play some sad music. Or you play some happy music as a counterpoint to the piercing screams of the female actor. And you can transition to intermission so the people can go out to get some air or to vomit or to cry in the bathroom. And when they return from intermission, the sea can be on stage. Dawn. The sky, the waves, the sand. The audience seats can have disappeared. The entire theatre space can be a large deserted beach. So the people are going to have to sit on the sand. The sun is going to blind their sight a little, but soon they will adjust. And the audience is going to wait until the actors come out again. But no one is going to come out. There will only be the waves. The wind. The nostalgia. And there they are going to comprehend that the beach is empty because not one woman was ever able to arrive to look at the sea. So the women in the audience get up and they are going to say: we are the first women to cross the forest. But they are going to say, no, it\u2019s not true,, we are still in the theater. And all the beach will disappear and they will still be in the theatre space. And no one will applaud and the women will go home depressed. And they are going to ask: What happens if I go out to walk in the forest tonight? Some are going to go to sleep. But yes, others are going to go into the deepest part of the forest. Some are going to bring shotguns. Others are going to go out in groups, holding hands. But none of them are going to manage to look at the sea because something will always stop them.\u00a0 And then, one day, they are going to close the production of the play because people will get tired of seeing such a sad story. And many years will pass. And you are going to believe, and you are going to remember that story that I told you that night, about the theatre. And you are going to put on the play again. And then, perhaps, after many, many years, at the end of your version of the play, some woman will succeed in crossing that forest. And manage to\u00a0 get her feet wet. And put herself in the water. And swim. And fall asleep nude on the sand. And the people will cry at the end of your play. And everything will be different after that. It will be so different, that it will seem to be a dream.\u00a0<\/p>\n
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