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Cliffie is an artist, a painter. He lives in a broken-down house and has a woman deliver soup and New Age affirmations. Cliffie is haunted - by a woman from his past, by the painting he's working on, and by a young man who may or may not be his son. "A fractured and glancing piece about memory and art. It is not a neat, well-made play, but its economical imagery and moments of real power result in an experience that lingers in the memory long after its one-hour passage." Stephen Dunne, Sydney Morning Herald, Aug. 1999. "'Lost Lagoon' is not nice fluffy theatre, it is an intense, impassioned and sagacious production." Emily Langston-Stapp, Revolver, August 1999
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Male | 50s | under 3 minutes
Starts on page 20
EXTRACT: No/ All the stuff that those that wandered around here like sheep believed defined me./ I never had anything to start with./ My life got cluttered. Real cluttered./ Then I made it empty again. That's as simple as it gets./ My life's not trinkets and fancy paintings and blue-tak on walls or pretty fridge magnets./ It's in here./ In my gut/ In my soul./ In my liver.
Male | 50s | under 3 minutes
Starts on page 13
EXTRACT: What I was led to believe in never happened... family... or people at least. Yeah that's it. I been sittin' here the whole time dreaming it up .Lapping it up until I made it come true, 'til my' thoughts crowded this empty room so that it were full of dreams, so full that the room couldn't take it any more and they all busted out through the pores in the walls and they tumbled and tickled the street outside. And when I do open my eyes you will be gone. Because you are imagination. That's what I've been told.
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