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(All excerpts from a staged reading at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music; November, 2007.}


In front of a closed curtain, Isabelle is seated at a desk. The stage is dark; she is lit with a single light.


   I have a story to tell. Who was this man? He was a shy, near blind, bald, gay albino From an ethnic Pittsburgh ghetto Who ruled the world of art For two wild decades. In another time He could have been a Napoleon or a Hitler. Did I love Andy? Yes, for an instant. Did he love Ultra - the me I was then? Who knows? It was not about love. What was it about?

The light goes out; Isabelle exits; the curtain goes up...