Uncle Vanya

In a place cursed by gout and beauty, the air is stifling and the stomach is burning—so much is felt but so little is said. Nights and days are reversed, and people on the estate can no longer fall into sleep. Instead, they wait. With empty hands  and burning hearts: they wait beside the pool, they wait under the dining table, they wait on the margin of the greenest forest, they wait on the lawn. Maybe they forgot what they’re waiting for but they keep on holding there…