The Orestes, there’s a fucked-up play. Having done in their mother, the two demon children discover that taboos turn to gauze when you push on them. They tiptoe in a savage, wondering way through a city that can’t be real to them; despite the histrionics, they seem to guess that nothing done here will carry consequences. They might as well experiment. The results are death and death again, but in their minds death is an inexact state. They call into the earth, certain that their father can hear them below. You would swear they’d been tipped off that a god was coming to clean up the mess.
