speaks nicely

Wearing a 1950's polished cotton day dress, I sit, cross-legged on a kitchen table facing the audience. Whilst carefully peeling apples so that the skin is not cut short and tumbles off my lap like a lock of hair, I give a conversational monologue, delving into humorous and sordid personal details of fictional friends lives. The sometimes crass, sometimes devastating topics of my conversation sit in direct opposition to the soft, well mannered tone of my voice setting up a striking juxtaposition. The repetitive peeling of the apples provides a visual suggestion of occupational and social circularities as well as keeping my potentially idle hands busy ...