[how odd·
21/10/2018 § Σχολιάστε
Harold Pinter (1930-2008)
[…]
Pause
Robert: What do you think of Jerry as a letter writer?
She laughs shortly.
Robert: You are trembling. Are you cold?
Emma: No.
Robert: He used to write to me at one time. Long letters about Ford Madox Ford. I used to write to him too, come to think of it. Long letters about… oh, W.B.Yeats, I suppose. That was the time when we were both editors of poetry magazines. Him at Cambridge, me at Oxford. Didi you know that? We were bright young men. And close friends. Well, we still are close friends. All that was long before I met you. Long before he met you. I’ve been trying to remember when I introduced him to you. I simply can’t remember. I take it I did introduce hime to you? Yes, but when? Can you remember?
Emma: No.
Robert: You can’t?
Emma: No.
Robert: How odd.
Pause.
[Excerpt from Harold Pinter’s play Betrayal, faber & faber, 1978
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