Paches and I sit and listen to this starved bastard, half his body covered by rocks, and as we listen, something happens. The words and voice blend so that what he is blends, and he becomes two things at once, a starving Athenian, yes, but something else, hidden, then rising. He’s Medea, poor princess Medea from Colchis, and she lists her grievances against Jason: how she’d cast spells so he could get the golden fleece, murdered her brother, and betrayed her father so he could regain his kingdom. How he’d sworn eternal love under starry skies, told her he’d never leave and then did as soon as
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