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lyrics

HENRY: Somehow this boxcar has the feeling of being dusty and damp at the same time, and our mouths taste like the grit of too many miles, passed without seeing.

LILA: One. Run your fingers along the ridge of bumps behind your left hip--there are still four.

HENRY: And in the waiting, in the absence of light, I suddenly become aware of the collected sounds of breathing--Lila’s staccato syncopated with the long, slow draws on my left, a heavy sigh there, the sound of someone shifting their weight from one tired bone to another.

LILA: Two. Remember the way the sun lit the leaves on the white birches by the stream where we washed our faces. Somewhere in Minnesota, I think, although maybe it was later. Three. Remember the freckles on my father’s face.

credits

from West of Elsewhere, released October 30, 2016
Music by Forrest Hejkal, text by the leastaways

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the leastaways New York, New York

a traveling theater ensemble performing plays and music in homes and public spaces. We toured our first original play West of Elsewhere across the country in the summer of 2016.

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