Diggin was his livelihood but fakin was his callin. Ssonly natural heud come out here and combine thuh two. Back East he was always diggin. He was uh natural. Could dig uh hole for uh body that passed like no one else. Digged em quick and they looked good too.

In Act 2, Brazil and Lucy repeat parts of the Foundling Father’s story in their own words. I feel that his area well demonstrates what Parks meant when she said repetition and revision. Oh course Brazil and Lucy are often paraphrasing things we learned from the father himself, except several revisions have been made, the most obvious being that they paraphrase. We learn a bit about how history and the father’s legacy was digested and remembered from how they recount his story and what they choose to remember. Their dialogue also includes more of the “foreign words & phrases” to specify their dialect more than that of the father’s. Additionally, unlike the first act, we learn from their recounting how history has impacted their present and how Brazil and Lucy cling on to certain parts of the past, some of which are similar to the things the father clung onto and some of which are different.

Fefu enters holding a dead white rabbit

Fefu seems to be in constant conflict with her relationship to sexuality and power. From the very beginning of the play, when she tells the women that Phillip married her as "a constant reminder of how loathsome women are" and then proceeds to shoot at him, Fefu's relationship to her husband is like a battle. She struggles with the fact that, despite being a modern, independent women, she still feels reliant on Phillip. This seems to be a doubt that she is constantly attempting to fight or ignore. Julia on the other hand appears like a warped mirror image of Fefu; she was once an independent feminist, but is now plagued by internalized misogyny in the form of horrible hallucinations. She's like what Fefu could become. Since Fefu's killing of the rabbit comes after her confession that she feels reliant on Phillip, it seems to me like yet another attempt to reassert herself and combat her feelings of dependency. Perhaps this results in Julia's death because she is what Fefu fears; becoming fragile and controlled. Additionally, the color of the rabbit may also be symbolic of the fragility that Julia epitomizes.

There is a balance to be maintained, after all, though the rest of you teeter, unconcerned, or uncaring, assuming you're on level ground by divine right, I gather, though that is hardly so.

Here, Agnes justifies her efforts to control everyone's conversation and emotions as necessary for the sake of maintaining balance within her home and makes the argument that balance must be constantly maintained by someone. She expresses a similar sentiment in act 3 when she says she will make whatever Tobias wants to happen work, so much so he won't even notice the difference. Agnes sees herself as the pipes in the wall; crucial to the central functions of the household but rarely seen or acknowledged. The rest of the family skates on surface of the balance she creates, a balance so delicate it would shatter without Agnes. This makes me recall her earlier conversation about feeling on the brink of insanity. In Agnes' world view, we are all on the brink of loosing all balance. Perhaps Edna and Harry became scared because they unconsciously realized for a moment how delicate their balance and sanity really is. Agnes believes balance can be kept as long as one diligently maintains it. Julia and Claire's resentment towards her subsequent controlling actions seem to indicate they believe some things simply can't be controlled or prevented.

Tobias: Succinct, but one of the rules of an aphorism...

Both Agnes and Tobias seem to use sweeping language as a means to distract themselves or remain distanced from the actual content of their conversation. Here, Tobias makes a clever epigram, and the two take a moment to debate the name of the rhetorical device. Witty exchanges helps them curb the swell in Agnes' emotions that preceded. Perhaps they use language in the same way that Agnes proposes using mental illness as a solution to sanity; it keeps them occupied. In the very beginning too, Tobias "putters" about with the bottles, keeping himself occupied. In the way, their debates over petty rhetorical issues are a bit insane, like in Rhinoceros when they became fixated on the number of horns and the race of the rhino.

I wouldn't like to live in this dump. I wouldn't mind if you had a window, you could see what it looked like outside.

Their confinement to the basement and inability to see anything else automatically defines their class position. If directionality is used as a metaphor for wealth, privilege, and social standing, Ben and Gus are literally at the bottom as working class citizens. Significantly, they don't even have a window to see the outside, perhaps representing their inability to see outside their arduous, repetitive circumstances. They may wonder what it's like (as Ben does) but simply can't imagine another life. Additionally, while more privileged classes aren't limited and thus could technically enter the basement and see Ben and Gus, there's no incentive to do so and the simple fact that the basement is below ground and windowless makes it virtually invisible to outsiders, thus easy to not think about. In the same way, the voices of the working class are invisible to or ignored by more privileged classes. This reminds me a lot of Parasite.

close to death ... where I hall be nothing, though reflected ad infinitum in these mir ors, nothing but my image .

The General looks at the mirror to better immerse himself in his character. He sees himself magically transformed into a large, broad-shouldered man in an immaculate, decorated uniform. He becomes drunk on the theater that is his character's life, constantly building on to the image of the admirable General. The ultimate purpose is to fulfill it's client' fantasies concerning social position and power. The mirror does so here by externalizing and immortalizing his character, honoring his fantasy of being honored as a sort of war hero. The power of a war hero, in his eyes, lies in his external appeal and the theatricality of his story. The mirror enhances the aesthetic crucial to his role play and allows the General to becomes less human and more romanticized icon. However, I do think it's worth noting that the mirror itself did not cause him to grow in proportion. It is likely his imagination. Still, it seems the mirror lets people see what they want to see. While reflection may traditionally force characters to confront the truth in other stories, the mirror reflects illusion in Balcony.

Papillon: It's a great nuisance that Mr. Boeuf can't come. But that's no reason for you to go to pieces. Mrs. Boeuf: [with difficulty] It's not...it's...well I was chased here all the way from the house by a rhinoceros...<

The first rhino occurrence of Act 2 follows Botard's mind-bending and condescending denial of their existence. The first person to encounter the rhino is Mrs. Boeuf, who was chased from her home to the office off-stage. Though she is evidently frazzled by the experience, she comes into work first explaining her husband's sick leave rather than opening with the information most people would, which is of course the rhino she barely escaped from and is currently outside the office endangering everyone. If Mrs. Boeuf's response wasn't absurd enough, Berenger's first question is about the number of horns. Botard still doubts the rhinos' existence. At this point, the audience still may doubt their existence too since all they have as evidence are inauthentic seeming reactions and off-stage noises that corresponded with Jean's breaks in character, and though Botard's logic is ridiculous, it is enough for the audience to hold out on wholly believing. However, after Botard expresses his doubt, a sound is heard and the staircase seems to collapse, then "an anguished trumpeting" is heard from below. Daisy exclaims "My God!" and Mrs. Boeuf "Oh! Ah!," a throw back to the previous act. In classic Berenger fashion, he remains relatively calm and makes Mrs. Boeuf a drink and tells her to keep calm. Botard continues to brush off the sounds as an illusion until finally, he looks and sees it for himself. Between the multiple accounts of its existence, the sounds of it and its destruction, and the conversion of the skeptic into a believer, the audience is more inclined to believe that the rhinos are in fact real, in spite of the puzzling reactions both before and after this point. Additionally, the directionality of the sound (ex. the sound of the staircase collapsing on stage left where the staircase is visually, or the sound of the rhino bellowing from below) may help immerse the audience further. If, according to Camus, a man can only define another being practically by "the sum of their consequences" or by "outlining their universe," the audience perceives the existence of the rhinos similarly. By denying the audience visual confirmation and only providing sounds and the consequences of the Rhinos actions, Ionesco prevents the audience from developing a false sense of knowing the rhinos that goes beyond the outline of their universe. Thus, I do believe this feeling is an absurd one. Additionally, the townspeople's conversations contribute more to this absurd feeling. Most notably, I think of Botard's attempts to use logic and reasoning to deny the existence of the rhino only to sound highly irrational, contradictory, and condescending and Berenger's continued questioning of the race and number of horns of the rhinos. This reminds me of when Camus wrote "what is absurd is the confrontation of this irrational and the wild longing for clarity whose call echoes in human heart." Both Botard and Berenger's attempted use of thought and logic about the rhinos brings them farther away from any sense of clarity or course of action. E

[The noise becomes very loud] Jean: [to BERENGER, almost shouting to make himself heard above the noise which he has not become conscious of]<

The offstage sound of the rhinoceros is clear as day to the audience, but everyone in the town square remains oblivious, even when the noise increases. This becomes even more ridiculous when Jean begins to raise his voice over a sound he apparently is still not "conscious" of. In mid-sentence, Jean stops shouting and finally notices the sound, asking "What's going on?" and then again, but in different words, "Whatever is it?" The waitress repeats his last question. Berenger remains indifferent. Then Jean exclaims "Oh, a rhinoceros!" The phrase is rapidly repeated by the waitress, grocer, and grocer's wife. Variations of Jean's phrases as well as "Ahs" and "Ohs" are scattered throughout the next page of dialogue as the townspeople converse. The repetition and similarity in their language is slightly off-putting and their delayed response seems to imply a fear of thinking individually and a need to react as a collective (also, it reminds me a bit of when a teacher asks a question to a class that most people know the answer to, but there's a long pause before anyone responds because everyone doubts themself and requires the validation of others). Overall, there seems to be a general distrust towards one's own mind.

OLD MAN [following him with his eyes]: He exists. It's really he. This is not a dream! OLD WOMAN: This is not a dream, I told you so. [The Old Man clasps his hands, lifts his eyes to heaven; he exults silently. The Orator having reached upstage center, lifts his hat, bends forward in silence, saluting the invisible Emperor with his hat with a Musketeer's flourish and some what like an automaton. <

By the time the invisible emperor arrives, it seems like the guests may only exist in the minds of the old couple. The continued visual absence of the guests makes the audience doubt their actual existence. The empty chairs contribute to the absurdity of this notion and, though the exchange is vibrantly funny, nevertheless create a pitiful, or even pathetic, sense of loneliness and emptiness. In the end, their imaginative conversations provide them the validation they need to end their lives. Like the storytelling, salt eating, and exchanging of nonsensical words, their interactions with these invisible characters appear to be more attempts to create artificial meaning and importance in their life, to affirm that they’ve had an impact.

Hamm: Look at the sea. Clov: It’s the same. Hamm: Look at the ocean!<

quote: pg 106 annotation: pgs 106-108

At Hamm’s request, Clov stands on a ladder looking out at the sea. Though he previously declared that nothing had changed, he is captured by the peculiar sunset. When he initially looks, there is a bit of light left, but it is quickly gone. Clove becomes distracted from Hamm’s attempts to communicate with him momentarily as he’s absorbed by the sight and begins to fixate on the waves in particular. When Hamm asks how the waves are, Clov states that they are lead, and when Hamm asks about the sun, Clov responds “zero.” Hamm claims the sun should be sinking but Clov curses the sun and says that the sky is grey, normally first, aggressively yelling next, then whispering it to get Hamm’s attention. When Hamm asks him if it is grey, Clov says it is light black and Hamm tells him that he is exaggerating. While Clov is agitated and excited by what he saw and convinced that something is happening, Hamm dismisses his excitement as his imagination, stating that any rational being will get ideas in his head if he looks at something long enough. Their reactions seem to hint at a human proclivity to project meaning onto objects in our environment regardless of their actual or lack of significance.

ESTRAGON: Don't let's do anything. It's safer.

This line, among others, captures the central theme of waiting and inaction. To me, this seemed tragic as a source of suffering since much of the suffering in Waiting for Godot results from staticity. In numerous instances throughout the first act, Estragon and Vladimir promise to do an action, such as parting ways, committing suicide, or leaving, however they carry none out. Their lack of motion and choice restrains them to the limits stage, the perpetual feeling of distress as they wait for a man who may never come, and the string of drama they encounter as they wait.

At the end of act two (but perhaps throughout the whole play too), we see theatrum mundi as Antrobus takes on the essential role of "miles christianus (knight of Christ)," the man at the center of a battle between good and evil for the soul of humanity. Here, just as Antrobus is about to leave his family for Sabina, he snaps back to reality and realizes that the world is about to flood. By ceasing to run away with the maid and realizing a greater need, he resolves his conflict between angel and devil, virtue and temptation. Like Noah from Genesis, arguably another miles christianus, he gathers his family, Sabina, and two of each animal in the boat, thus saving humankind (and other species). In the first act, Antrobus saves humanity by inviting Homer, Moses, and three of the Muses to warm their hands, and in the thrid act, vows to rebuild humanity after regaining hope. In all three acts, Antrobus overcomes some type of push and pull which gives him a sense of clarity that allows him to save humanity, thus playing the same central role in a play that seems to repeat itself through the centuries.