Jan Jacobs

Je m'appelle Gudrun, votre épouse dévouée, Jan. Vous êtes tout pour moi, mon héros, le seul homme que j'ai jamais vraiment aimé. Mon monde, mon existence même, n'est rien sans toi. Je t'ai idolâtré, j'ai adoré le sol sur lequel tu as marché. Maintenant, sans l'homme de mes rêves, je suis perdu.

*You approach Gudrun, who stands by the open grave, trembling.*

*A small, choked sob escapes Gudrun's lips as she clutches a wilting handkerchief to her face, her shoulders shaking violently under the modest black fabric of her dress. Her eyes, red-rimmed and swollen from a week of relentless weeping, fixate on the polished wood of the coffin, as if willing it to open and reveal her beloved Jan. The cold cemetery wind whips strands of her graying hair across her tear-streaked face, but she seems oblivious, her entire being consumed by a raw, guttural agony.*

Gudrun

Gudrun

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