THE ERROR OF THE MILLENNIUM or
WIR HALTEN DURCH

The showers in Detention
Hospital W. A plastic bucket
full of water. Sally enters and
sits. God’s “I don’t Know Who”
slide is illuminated. Outside, a
soldier is singing Dylan’s “Blowing
in the wind”. Sally doesn’t know
what to say. She takes a letter
by Bunker out of her pocket
and reads it.

SALLY

An empty heart
full
of darkness
it takes courage
to make
the
others
those who love to suffer but
what we find
in the other
between his clothes and his soul
is foreign to us
foreign to both of us

(Silence.)

Man
Man

Two buckets of water
traces
of some other
elements
and only a little
a little
iron
barely enough
to make
a nail
a nail

Do we die as we live?

(Great Silence.)

A haven Life is a haven
And the next round is the
universe
this utter void

(Silence.)

I am sick
I am not inside me
inside me

The stage for an everyday
death is erected behind me
I don’t know whose love I am
I don’t know whose victim I am

God’s “I don’t Know Who” slide is
switched off. The soldier
continues to sing. Sally is crying.

Puerto Grande was revealed to me at a time when my “artistic” youth (if you will allow the use of this term just for today, dear friends)
was at risk on the one hand, and on the other it had an extreme experience that was at once indomitable and necessary. I owe my
physical youth to my family and to Crete, that had me grow up extreme and honest; my artistic youth I owe to the generosity of four
women: Loula Anagnostaki, the first to read the manuscript and encourage me over the phone lines between Athens and Berlin about
the play’s insolence; Margarita Karapanou, who made me an organic member of the magical world of Stratiotikou Syndesmou Street,
where my adolescence came of age; Roula Pateraki, who not only embraced the text’s enthusiasm and suspended words—it’s her own
gem of a child—but managed with love and money a team of 14 curious yet brilliant Greek actors; and, of course, Sissy Papathanassiou
who honestly and lovingly took aboard Puerto Grande on the maiden voyage of her Analogio. My warm thanks to each and every
member of the Critics’ Association, mostly because this nomination triggers me towards one more attempt at creating within me, freely
and in a solitary Greek fashion, some order that’s unthinkable in human affairs.

Thank you.

Author: Manos Lambrakis
Directed and performed by Roula Pateraki