After the music dies down, she spins on, traversing the entire space as if by sheer momentum. She wears a lavender waltz-length dress, but ducks behind the curtain to slip on a scarlet gown and robe while a Yiddish song plays. Hair loosened, she seems quite mad, whipping the robe across the floor, then waltzing with it. Yet a series of jetes, light as a water fowl skimming a lake, attest to an inner sanity. When Man and Kawano take the stage for To Be, they move in darkness, snarling unintelligible words.
Man forages in a pile of rags to expose a faint green glow.
The lights come up on two grotesquely deformed figures, covered in clay and bandaged in rags. Their insectile movements are palsied, fragile. A soundscape of the sick and dying gives way to mooing, footsteps, horses' hooves and then, perhaps, a glockenspiel. When they finally encounter one another, they touch and explore one another's bodies, recognizing with horror that they are two lice-infested and hideous creatures. There are no further performances.