II: [frente: labour of love, in some kind of courtyard, very picturesque]
M: I wonder where that singing is coming from?
F: Which? Oh that. I don’t know. Wasn’t it always there?
M: I don’t think so. She has a beautiful voice. I hope she isn’t attractive.
F: She probably is. They all are.
M:Who are “they”?
F: I.. something I suppose. What is she singing about?
M: I… I don’t know; I can hear her voice, and even the individual words, but for some reason I can’t put any of them together.
F: Yeah. I feel it sometimes too.
M: You know, there is no way out of this courtyard.
F: So? Why would we want to leave, what is “outside” anyway?
M: I’m not sure, but somehow its very structure seems to imply that it is preferrable to not having a choice about the matter.
F: Hey.
M: What?
F: You realize that this means that there is no way in either?
M: Odd that I didn’t notice that. Strange…you know, I don’t think we could leave here even if there was some apparent means of exit.
F: I don’t think we could want to leave if we wanted to.
M: Yeah…I have this strange feeling that tells me I have to wait until the song is over. And yet, I don’t think it will ever end.
F: It could be repeating endlessly for all we know.
M: Like these scenes.
[exchange puzzled looks]
F: Y, yes.
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