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The man walks into a room with no recollection of the past and a vague sense of purpose surrounding the bottles of gin he has found on a table. Being, as he is, exceptionally drunk, he assumes there must be a reason for this special inebriation and sets about his own mind for the answers. Unfortunately, what he finds is a jumbled mess of circular logic, stupid revelation and a voice or two from a past that still, every now and again, breaks through. Is he drinking to forget and, if so, what? And if he's forgotten everything he's been drinking to forget, what's the use in trying to remember everything he's forgotten? The man searches for answers in himself and the universe around him but, being so separated from them both, his is a task that is Sisyphean in its futility. All that remains for him to do is drink.

Creatives/Company

Author: Timothy Turner

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2014 (1 listings)