Wolfgang Maria Bauer

It is midsummer night, the time of dissolution of boundaries, day and night are not separated anymore, but coalesce in a diffuse twilight; a dream, a game, an exceptional situation.
A day/night to finally act and flee: Christin bases her plans on physical studies, she wants the universal escape, together with Jean. A day/night to flinch from the possible again: Jean embroils Christin in a game that doesn’t consist of a tangible act, but of imagination and vivid fancy.
Speaking and listening, lock, stock and barrel. Something strange, a third party emerges from the well: a hybrid being, condensate of their imagination.
The troll is called Julie, like the desirable, untouchable daughter of the count, whose servants are Christin and Jean. The embodied, carnal imagination demolishes borders. Christin withdraws from the game by jumping, defying gravity and letting earth speed past her. The two who were left behind fasten onto each other until estrangement. Devotion, the confession of an impossible love, becomes withdrawal, becomes a radical questioning of love and capacity for love. The troll casually slits his own throat, he erases all traces and disappears with the first light of day. In his place, not even noticed by Jean, Christin is laying there; she’s left behind like coffee grounds, like half-empty glasses after a jamboree. Meanwhile, the troll, the projection, confidently disappears in the rising morning sun.