We must honestly admit that inventions are born in disorder and not in void.
Mary Shelley.
Mary Shelly.
The first science fiction novel in the history of literature, Frankenstein, was created in 1818.
She was called the mother of science fiction.
French poster, Frankenstein, 1931
By Jacques Faria.
Yeah.
Two.
individual
Yes.
Dance
Station
Let's go.
Yes.
Play
Members
。
I also have a very wanted person.
Why don't we want to kill people?
For this is the most hateful thing in this world.
I wanted to be a great scientist, create a new life and do it in every way possible, but he was a monster, and I couldn't live with him, and I didn't want to take care of this failed experiment.
In the end, he turned my life upside down.
I hate this enemy too.
Howling at me all the time, fucking pervert, a monster that never stops making my life unsustainable.
It's fucking against me...
My enemies howled me to make another monster, make a woman he wanted and disappear with him forever.
But how is that possible?
How is that impossible?
If I can get my enemy, this howler, shut up, I'll fucking give him the woman.
Then he's going with another monster to find a new way to disturb me and humanity! How dangerous it is! I will never compromise against this possibility of harming humanity!
Oh, well, I can't imagine another howler.
I've been looking around for this sound, finding him as fast as I can, killing him, that's why I'm alive!
I'll kill this fucking equation!
I'm gonna kill this fucking sound that's been going on and on!
……
Yeah.
Other
External
Two.
individual
Yes.
Two.
Building
Yes.
Play
Members
。
I'm so ugly that no one with vision can be with me.
Aah!
Why are you yelling?
Aah!
Oh, you're a monster like me that can't be accepted.
That's why I'm here.
No one wants to be with this monster, just you.
Aah!
I'm so sad that you can't feel my uncomplicated pain.
Why?
Why?
Why, I'm so lonely!
Aah!
Why don't I deserve the love they have!
My master thinks I'm smart.
It's rapidly evolving to be human, but it's hard for me!
Aah!
I just want a chance to love.
I think it's possible!
I deserve to be loved I'll be loved!
Uhh...
……
Yeah.
Other
External
Two.
individual
Yes.
The door.
External
Smoke.
Smoke.
Yes.
Two.
individual
People
。
I'm creating, writing a play is rehearsing.
I'm also writing ghost stories.
Too many creepy ugly things in the head are moving.
If you see everything I see
I swear you don't want to see it again.
You'll never get out, ever.
I can't get rid of those terrible visions.
I can't get away with it.
Hey, so I said I'd howl!
Let the lonely cry with me!
We shouted loudly, loudly, loudly!
I'm trying to scare me.
Night and night haunting my ghost.
My husband encouraged me to be such a fantasist.
……
Mary Shelley's Frankenstein and P4 Theater's Howlers on the ceiling are all pursuing the subject in contradictions, constantly exploring the space of desire, discovering the barbarity and civilization of "me", taking dreams into reality, practising dreams in new spaces and discovering new ones in contact with more people.
If drinking is an effort to get to the ultimate pleasure, if there is a pose to get the other person drunk, it is not trust or pleasure. When we dance with people, we hear footsteps, we stop at this moment, we don't worry about what's going down, we don't dare raise a toast to this moment, we'll be an alcoholic for a moment, and we don't hide from freedom. Otherwise, it would inevitably be a murder that made us human. That space is too intrusive, too isolated to allow cities and independent people to mix, and people are no longer the same. Do not find yourself and others in the definition of the appearance of the image, neither the "monster" nor the "constructor" are as simple as the simple language of life. There is no language in this glass.
Memory does not help, and we are still moving even as a tool of memory. We are full of emotion, once again, fleeing one-value concentration camps. Don't believe the so-called single legitimacy of howling. Don't let the glass conspire with any history.
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Howlers on the roof.
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You can enjoy Mary Shelley's sweet white wine.