Yesterday I was watching our family videos till 5 in the morn’. Really old stuff, where I’m that of 6 and then birthday after birthday, New Year 1999, New 2000, our homemade plays and films, forgotten talks and shots. It seems so different now, every word, every glance has another meaning. And there was really too much of me in my family, too much of my overwhelming ego, sucking energy and space. Was that my fault that it all turned out like that? My mom, skinny young girl, with seriously damaged teeth after the two pregnancies, loving and caring look, though a bit distracted and childish. She looks stunningly beautiful! My daddy, smiling, adoring his wife. Then his first wrinkles come...

Three CDs telling a story of collapse. There you see the branchy roots and the first cracks of this fragile union. My granny talking so odd, so different, with this provocative manner of a very mean person, used to pledging and feasting. It took me a wile to recognize her back then. My sister with her father. They look so nice together. My aunt, beautiful, young girl. Happy, really happy back then. That would be so good, so good, or so cruel… to show this all to them now… It was so long ago...

I’ve been thinking, laughing and crying all through the 5 hours of my whole life. It’s high time for me to go… High time for me to leave…

Gabo should have taken a lot from stories like this. Wonder whether I’d be ever able to write a play not repeating my own family plot?