were the three characters in that room, simple black wall mirror, desk chair brown and gray. Not looking each other, but watching Thomas, sitting in that chair gray, his hands resting on the brown table and back against the back wall. They wear informal, with no hint of elegance, they might be journalists, scientists or managers frustrated at a store spare fuel. Thomas did not, Thomas has a white shirt, not his fault, it is the protagonist of the work, or at least that's what it was, before the ink timer stopped, before the handle is nailed to the feet. Each
three characters had already marked a very important role that he had sent them to fulfill that role, and he could not leave because if they did, would make sense that room, they would not make sense to them and to Thomas, and as recently noted, there is no work without Thomas, no story without Thomas. So first on the right said something, a speech that will not reproduce well-worn but, in summary, can be schematized in the following points: I begged him to speak, that that work was of social commitment, a just cause food spirits concienciaría minds, perhaps save lives. He said he had created as an idealist, he had drawn as combative, just a hero. But Thomas remained silent. What were you thinking? That is something that neither was able to elucidate. He drew frantically editing their edges and unwittingly honing his flaws as a character, making her sound to silence: the sound of those other lips persuasive. Thus came the turn of the second man. No, I said, this is not a work of commitment, on the contrary, he is a maverick, a cynic, a bully willing to show the world that climate change, poverty as well as care about the future of dairy sector in the northern regions of Belarus. Come on, he continued, trying to dismantle hypocrisy, ideology and remove you, you are an extension of Him, you're a villain, let those be created in a joint work. But Thomas was silent. Could be many things, many people, but at that time was just a heap of gray kilos on a chair, a personality dissipated on a black stage, a dam for the words that issued those characters, to the light wind that woke up with torn gestures. And the third one approached him. I'm with you, I will not be a character, I rebel against him, because I refuse to be what He wants me to be, look how out of the work, to disappear, if possible, but when I disappear. Hang out with me, this is an existentialist play, let them them to fight for just causes, let them flood their cynicism. You and I want out of here. And Thomas was silent. No one had managed to convince him. Seemed to look in the mirror, maybe they thought through it would not be 4, but 8 characters, thought perhaps that this mirror was a desperate attempt to Him by multiplying the mouths that open and close, they emit words and words that suggest fluid of life, intractable conflicts. Soon they saw three left. Saw was only in the room, and looking the mirror was now double the silence. Plunged into darkness. Curtain. Come
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