#writed

[thehoneyedhufflepuff]

broke 10k on chapter 26. the world hath righted itself.

[bibliotecador]

por um segundo

senti horas

[double--cross-d]

Hey All! I'm finished with the Character study!

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Hope you Enjoy!

[pouringmyheartdry]

The only time that people can actually relate to my writing is when it is sad.

[themonologuearchive]

Scene 01 - 01 - Tom

From: The Glass Menagerie, by Tennessee Williams

Genre: Drama

Topic: Narration, illusion, time

Character: Male, writer

Yes, I have tricks in my pocket, I have things up my sleeves. But I am the opposite of a stage magician. He gives you illusion that has the appearance of truth. I give you truth in the pleasant guise of illusion.

           To begin with, I turn back time. I reverse it to that quaint period, the thirties, when the huge middle class of America was matriculating in a school for the blind. Their eyes had failed them, or they had failed their eyes, and so they were having their fingers pressed forcibly down on the fiery Braille alphabet of a dissolving economy.

In Spain there was revolution. Here there was only shouting and confusion. In Spain there was Guernica. Here there are disturbances of labor, sometimes pretty violent, in otherwise peaceful cities such as Chicago, Cleveland, Saint Louis… This is the social background of the play.

The play is memory. Being a memory play, it is dimly lighted, it is sentimental, it is not realistic. In memory everything seems to happen to music. That explains the fiddle in the wings.

I am the narrator of the play, and also a character in it. The other characters are my mother, Amanda, my sister, Laura, and a gentleman caller who appears in the final scenes. He is the most realistic character in the play, being an emissary from a world of reality that we were somehow set apart from. But since I have a poet’s weakness for symbols, I am using this character also as a symbol; he is the long – delayed but always expected something that we live for.

There is a fifth character in the play who doesn’t appear except in this larger – than – life – size photograph over the mantel. This is our father who left us a long time ago. He was a telephone man who fell in love with long distances; he gave up his job with the telephone company and skipped the light fantastic out of town…

The last we heard of him was a picture postcard from Mazatlan, on the Pacific coast  of Mexico, containing a message of two words: “Hello – Goodbye!” and no address.

I think the rest of the play will explain itself.

[bibliotecador]

por favor,

só por hoje,

não espere nada de mim

apenas me abrace

me ame em detalhes

[bibliotecador]

era habitual,

só não tinha percebido