During a ten year period starting in 1981 just before a visit to Paris and as if by magic a large number of plays and poems arose and were written in the mornings by longhand. This play was one of many. It came like the others. The only plan was the time period allocated to writing it; and the names of the characters; but it differs from all the others in that the internal pictoral structure is quite distinct and even as the author I cannot glimpse its overall shape. Not able to be 'seen' it always intrigued me and here it is.

So then, what sort of creature is portrayed within the pages of this manuscript? A man who goes through woman after woman, refusing to rest on the Sabbath of Wives and dies after completing his task, from a cancer, perhaps inadvertently self caused. But these are details. Try as I might, using all the forms of analysis available to me, I cannot construct an explanatory system which satisfies me as containing him. I must then conclude that this man, our man, partakes of Reality and all my paltry attempts to explain him are vain. Therefore it is with some humility that I present to you, reader, the story of a Man