The director stood in front of the open doorway. Sunlight bounced off metallic shutters and a very clean boat behind him. Shiny things. We couldn't see him, just an outline. I haven't read the play but I want to think that it was apt that the harsh light obscured him. Is it just a little about that moment when you come back inside, at the day's height, probably from mowing the lawn?

Had he moved faster he may have been a member of Boney M in one of those film clips where the light chases the silouhette, but he talked slowly in a kind of maniacally languid way about adjustment and entrapment and the dreamlife of suburbanites. When he turned to the set we could see the rat's tail in his profile. He kept remembering important things. Things that he needed to tell us so that the other things made sense. He said when they are inside they will be filmed, that we have a man playing a female character for a reason and that it was the summer of the bitch on heat. Then he went behind the screen to eat a lamington.