Antigone Workshop, documentation of performance at Parsons MFA Open Studios, 2016
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ANTIGONE: My own flesh and blood—dear sister, ___1____. Our father
handed down ____2___. There's nothing, no pain, our lives are pain no
private shame, no public disgrace, nothing I haven't seen in your griefs and
mine. What, haven't you heard? Don't you see? The doom reserved for
enemies marches on ___3____. Do you believe me? Do you understand?

ISMENE: Not I, I haven't heard a word, Antigone. Nothing of ___1___,
no___2___ has come my way, not since the two of us were robbed of
___3___, gone in a day, when our world died. Nothing makes me happy.
Nothing hurts me anymore.

ANTIGONE: I thought so. That's why I brought you out here, past the gates,
so you could hear in private.

What's the matter? Trouble, clearly ...
You have your ___4___ look.

ANTIGONE: ___4__ is to be left unwept, unburied. ___5__. A lovely
treasure for birds.

ISMENE: My poor sister, ___5__. We are ___6___. If things have come to
this, who am I to make or mend them? What good am I to you?

Will you share ___6__, share the work?

What dangers must we face?

Give me your hand. (Clasp the hands of the person in front of you.)
Will you lift up the body (Lift up the person’s hands.)
And lower it with me? (Lower their hands to the floor.)
Dear sister, my dead are mine and yours as well are mine—my flesh,
and thine.
No one will ever say I betrayed my own.