Just as he, Marcus Blackman, imagines, a kiss with Ophelia that would start slow and rise in crescendos. Likewise, the short piece rises beyond the sprawling National Academy as both rehearse for a billed joint performance for the Performing Arts.
Over the years, Marcus had first been in this theatre as a secondary school student. With nostalgic feelings he recants a woeful experience then at the theatre that shows in no small measure the stature of his family, socially. While not leaving off that a continued stealing and diversion of Government-sponsored grant would always impoverish people it were meant for. Because of such case, the inner linings of his stomach were wrenched from hunger for someone had stolen Government-sponsored lunch pack. Coupled with his mother who had been trying her hands on a few jobs to cater for his one-of-man’s basic need of food amidst others. That it was as if he ceased to be a human and was reduced to this single need. “Eat. Eat. Eat.”
On account of the hunger, he was only able to discern the play’s title; steel, even though the programme was on his lap. However, with the hunger still persisting, there was this emotional unsteadiness Marcus continues to paint until a classmate’s; “oh God man, hush your stink mouth!” such was the horrible experience at that first time in the theatre. Dogged with having a berth on the stage, he is here, another time, in this empty hall, having rehearsals. The hunger botched experience of the first time is another time, now this time, supplanted with a much coveted date with Ophelia, his play mate. With his mind almost completely occupied with spending a while with her, he cannot but keep hoping. “Hoping…please God. Give me this one thing. Give me an hour with this woman in a coffee shop. Give me her hair…” Nevertheless, the ease with which he picked Jardin des Tuileries as the place, as though he goes there often, would make him think of how to afford it. in the meantime, a date is fixed. It was all that mattered.
Now the first step had been well planted; picking a date. And because he hadn’t the financial wherewithal at present to let all bill hang on him. He would source the money by slipping away some one or two dollar notes and would only hence, drool on Tecla’s fruits instead of buying them. At times, his mind tells him he simply could not have Ophelia because they are not class. It seemed ridiculously utopic but her listening ear and her smooth lift were all evidence of a try is worthwhile. Peripherally, there was more his mind told on the day she gave him a lift.
As the character he would portray in Act One becomes clearer-a ghetto youth determined to claw his way out, there is not much disparity between him and would-act-him when he strides on gingerly to where he rests his head with his mother. His distant staying uneasy father would worth a detail when this date is all he cared; it was the money to afford a $25 dollar coffee and more at the Jardin des Tuileries. But this ambivalence would have the most take as higher notes are pitched in the still rising crescendo.
Illustration; As Related in Ophelia by Breanne Mc Ivor
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