ACT II begins (day 18)

ACT II

_{It is very early morning. The sun slants low across the tables all of which have their chairs upside down on top of them except one which Marie has taken down and is sitting at. Monsieur comes up from the beach. He is in swim trunks and an open shirt with a towel―all of which reminds us just how old he is.}

_{Marie: You swim Monsieur?}

_{Monsieur: Ah, mademoiselle, these days it is more that I sit in the water. But as long as I can, I do.}

_{Marie: Why not later when it is warmer?}

_{Monsieur: It is warm now, and later the sun is too bright. It bounces off the sand and stabs me. The water I remember fondly, but not the sand and the sun.}

_{Marie: What do you remember?}

_{Monsieur: Ah...a Marie...but it is no matter. So, you are here, because?}

_{Marie: Oh. I'm sorry for intruding. I know you're not open....I....Gil did not come home last night, and I thought he might be here, or will come.}

_{Monsieur: d'accord. There should be some coffee now. You would like some?}

_{Marie: Yes, thank you, can I get it?}

_{Monsieur (acknowledging the need): I suppose it would be best.}

_{They walk into the bar and return, Marie carrying a tray with cups and a plate with bread. Monsieur follows some fruit and a knife.}

_{Monsieur: So you and Gil, you live together?}

_{Marie: He has his own place, but really he just works there usually. He paints, some sculpture.}

_{Monsieur: Ah, an artist.}

_{Marie: Well, he works in an office to make a living, but he's very good.}

_{Monsieur: And you?}

_{Marie: Nothing right now. I had been the projectionist at the cinema, but when it closed....well, when it closed I did not have a job. There are not a lot of jobs in Kourou—at least not for someone who only knows how to thread film through sprockets and time the second projector.}

_{Monsieur: Could you not work in Cayenne?}

_{Marie: Eh bien, the theaters have their own projectionists and we are a dying breed anyway. Everything will soon be digital and all you will only need someone to sell the tickets and the Coca-Cola and maybe not that. Pretty soon, we will figure out that we do not need ourselves I think.}

_{Monsieur: Oh, no, mademoiselle. I think you are right that the world it seems to be trying to do this, but it is only that we find new ways to sell ourselves what used to be free and also new ways to find each other again.}

_{Marie: It seems like we keep trying to lose each other.}

Monsieur: Once, anyone could sit by the fire and tell a story. Why did we tell the story? Because our world it was not full enough. Then we made actors and paid them to tell us a story, so we could see those people not just hear about them. 

Marie: And then we made movies and got rid of most of the actors.

Monsieur: Ah oui, and then we made the TV, but then we don't see anyone anymore. So then we bring the TV to the bar so we can all be together again. We make cars so we don't have to walk, but the people get fat and lonely in their cars and so they go to the gym (he smiles and winks) or so I hear. We are mad, but we always need the people He gestures to the bar, so I have my world that comes to me new each day.

_{Marie: Is that it? We are your movie?}

_{Monsieur: Oh, no, mademoiselle, you are life itself. . . . But your Gil, he did not come home.}

_{Marie: No. I suppose you know we had a bit of quarrel last night. He's started painting again and that's good. I'm sure he just fell asleep, probably with a brush in his hand.}