She hated yellow. Ever since the day when my father bought her those yellow shoes and she twisted her ankle. (Silence.) Make sure you look properly and then tell me the colour.
Yellow.
Come here.
The BOY approaches. Pause.
For her, yellow equalled bad luck. When they got rid of my father at the factory, she blamed the yellow eagle on his favourite beer. (Pause.) Try again.
Yellow.
Pause. The BLIND MAN cuffs him on the head.
I can see them. Right in front of me. Her sewing and him watching TV with a beer. She used to sew really slowly. It took her years to make the floral blanket on their bed. Take a look in the bedroom and you’ll see that it’s made up of all the colours of the rainbow. Except one. Not one bit of it. (Pause. He sets the object in front of the BOY.) Don’t say anything until you’re sure.
Yellow.
Pause. The Blind Man slaps him. Pause. The Blind Man grabs the Boy by the hair and pulls on it.
When my father took himself off and left, she blamed it on a letter that he’d received the day before. A letter written on yellow paper. Yellow was the devil itself in her eyes. The morning of my accident she warned me: ‘Don’t go outside, I dreamed a tiger ate your eyes’. (Pause. The BOY’s head is nearly at ground level.) Take all the time you need. We’re in no hurry.
The BOY can hardly move his head. Just enough to look at the object.
Yellow.
The above sample taken from the translation Yellow by Gwynneth Dowling is licensed under a Creative Commons License.
Entry written by Gwynneth Dowling. Last updated on 3 May 2011.