Marcel Marceau
long before working in an office
before entering a school-room
I saw life performed on a stage
and on other stages
lifes around me were always performances:
military convoys or black Mercedeses filled with
defence lawyers going to Nuremberg...
life around me was always 'staged'
and wherever my father was 'invited' to go to
he took me with him
to observe,
to be a witness
of history's most unique moments...
some of its unique 'players'
and history's losers...
not sure anymore when and where
after Nathan the Wise
I went to experience Marcel Marceau...
we boys never knew Halloween's mass-culture masks
but we 'read' our friend's face when his parents spoke French
or other friend's parents spoke Esperanto
to hide their alleged sectrets from us boys
Marcel Marceau's language
was to be learned above all other languages
an unforgettable language
but just like in any language,
there are bad imitators:
real clowns, giveaways
never ever 'sincere' factotums
in whatever hierarchy
always deluded by group mentality
always unable to be singular,
always unable to be 'nothing'