(An
unsavory REPORTER comes to interview THE NORTHWEST PASSAGE.
She is much older now and lives in
Pickfair before it fell down.)
THE NORTHWEST PASSAGE
You may
think no one cares to find me, but you are wrong. These furnishings are dusty; I can’t get good help.
REPORTER
You have
many visitors?
THE NORTHWEST PASSAGE
Silly boy,
no. I know
what you’re thinking. But
you’re wrong. Some look. The sensitive ones.
REPORTER
For what reason? Financial gain?
THE NORTHWEST PASSAGE
Financial---? I may ask you to
leave.
REPORTER
But what
about space? Haven’t your followers turned to space?
THE NORTHWEST PASSAGE
Then let
them chase that old whore!
(She
smoothes her coarse hair)
A few still know I’m here---just northernly accessible, tantalizing.
(She
blows smoke from a long cigarette and tries to make a silhouette in her
cracked glass. The image is wholly pathetic
in the tragic sense of the word.)
END
OF “THE NORTHWEST PASSAGE.”
