Artistic Discoveries in European Schoolyards

ALE high school student (a boy)
An adult outside of the room

The scene is in Ale’s bedroom.

In the half light, the outlines of a single bedroom: against the left wall, a wardrobe; against the right wall, a bookcase and the door; against the back wall, a chest of drawers, the headboard with the two beside tables and the bed, stretching out in the centre of the room and occupied by somebody that is lying beneath the blankets.
A light and regular breathing.

On the left beside table, an alarm clock starts ringing violently.
Barely visible, an arm emerges from under the blanket, and with a sharp blow turns off the alarm.
Pause.

With a sudden gesture, the sleeping beauty stands sitting and switches on the light; he looks still stunned. He turns to the right, puts his feet on the little carpet and stays there for a moment scratching his head. Then with a torsion he stretches himself to switch on the stereo on the left table. Nice music, inviting energy without too much pressure.

He stands up; he is wearing boxer shorts and vest. Ale.
He goes to the wardrobe, opens it and starts looking inside. He chooses a pair of jeans and tosses them on the bed. Then he adds a belt and two sweatshirts. Another sweatshirt. Black trousers. He starts rummaging in the wardrobe, looking for something; he moves aside clothes, stoops to take a look down, opens another door, moves a bundle of ironed sheets, but he can’t find what he’s looking for. He turns round. Here it is. The hooded red sweatshirt is hanging by the bookcase; he goes and gets it, and tosses it in the heap on the bed.
He’s going back to the wardrobe, but a thought restrains him: he stops for a moment to stretch the sheet under the little mountain of clothes. The result of this arrangement is not very brilliant, but it seems to be ok for him.
He goes back to his work at the wardrobe and piles up other garments on the bed. Then he goes to the chest of drawers and takes some clothes and underwear from it, but also other kind of things, like beauty case and such things.

A thought comes to him, and he goes back to the wardrobe: he’s again looking for something he can’t find, he stands doubtful, then as for an illumination he passes to the right side of the bed and bends down. He puts a hand under the bed and searches for something; he finds something, he reaches out the arm to grasp it better and pulls out a pair of socks rolled up in a ball. He looks at them suspiciously, smells them, is disgusted, hesitates a second and then throws them back where he found them – maybe further. Then he puts also his head under the bed; he re-emerges with a pair of fluorescent green mules that should have seen better times. He puts them aside and goes on with his search, slipping under the bed with his whole chest.
He comes out from there with a dusty box and a satisfied expression. He brushes the box with a hem of the sheet, he opens it to check the contents and smiles. He closes the box. He stands up and puts the box on the bed. He looks at it; he can’t resist and opens it again.
He pulls out of it a very stylish suit. He gazes at it, and then, carried away by enthusiasm, he puts it on. He comes to the audience’s side looking at himself in a mirror, he moves to check how it fits, and says goodbye to his reflected image with a gesture, as to say: “I’m keeping an eye on you, guy”. Then he takes the suit off and puts it as scrupulously as possible in the box that ends up on the top of the heap.
At this point he goes rummaging in the right beside table, where he finds a plastic bag in which he puts the mules he had put aside before, and adds also them to the mound. From the bookcase, he takes some little volumes, then he looks like he’s finished; only one thing is still missing.
He goes looking for it on the top of the wardrobe: a few jumps to reach an objects that’s a little too far, but already visible, and here the suitcase is coming out. It is nearly falling on Ale’s head – quick salvage.
He opens the suitcase – that’s visibly too small, in comparison with the heap – and puts it at the end of the bed, in front of the mound of clothes and objects. He starts diligently moving the stuff from over the sheet into the suitcase, creating a new mountain. At the end, he notices that closing it will be a problem; but he thinks about it just for a second, then starts fighting with the suitcase and the mountain.
He suddenly stops and fishes a pair of baggy pants from the heap, a t-shirt, a sweatshirt, then a pair of socks; and puts them on. He goes back to the suitcase and tries to close it, but the sorting he’s done is not enough and the fight starts again.
In a last desperate attempt of violence, he slides from the bed.
From the floor, he looks at the suitcase with hatred, but he resigns himself. He pours the contents of the suitcase on the bed, puts it on the floor on the right side and then seats on the bed like on horseback.
He starts searching. One in his right hand, one in his left hand, a salmon pink polo shirt and a “HardRockCafè–Berlin” t-shirt emerge from the mountain; the polo flies left, the t-shirt in the suitcase (more or less).
His work goes on: one thing to the left, another thing in the suitcase – and so on. The Real Madrid scarf stops directly on Ale’s neck, without any further selection; then the toothbrush goes left and razor and shaving lather go into the suitcase. Then Ale is about to check the size of a sweatshirt, putting it on his chest and measuring the sleeves’ lenght; but the hood, falling forward, makes it difficult. Ale tries to throw it on his shoulder, but it doesn’t work; so he holds it in his mouth. The impression is that the sleeves are a little too long for his arms…

From outside, the voice of an adult: “Ale! Are you awake?”

Ale, his mouth busy with the hood, answers with a sort of grunt. Then he spits in the hood and places the big sweatshirt in the discards area.
A few items left, and the mound is smaller.
Then Ale takes the suitcase with all its contents, moves it to the bed, he sets the things to make the clutter as small as possible. He is about to close it the suitcase. It is nearly closing up; but one needs to work on it. Actually it is not closing but Ale persists. As he is there pushing – almost jumping – on the suitcase, he notices that the bed is also moving with it. He stops pushing, and thinks for a moment. He moves the suitcase to the floor, and starts again.
But there’s nothing to do, it doesn’t close. He takes a deep breath in order not to get angry, dries his brow with the Real’s scarf, then he takes it out on it and testily removes it from his neck. And also the scarf ends up on the other side of the bed.

He stands up, empties the suitcase on the bed, throws the suitcase on the right again and starts the sorting again.
He discards the sweatshirt with Bob Marley and two pairs of socks, while a green grey pullover passes the selection. And the work goes on like this, fast. Suddenly, hesitation: what about the Batman’s boxer shorts? A couple of thoughts, then yes, the boxer shorts go into the suitcase, followed in a flash by a tie with Donald Duck embroidered on it.

From outside, the adult’s voice: “Ale! How many things are you putting in the suitcase?”

Ale sighs, annoyed; and the Batman’s boxer shorts and Donald Duck’s tie pass from the suitcase to the mound on the left. From the heap on the bed, razor and shaving lather emerge; Ale is about to throw them in the suitcase, but he stops. From where he is sitting, he leans out to the mirror, to take a look to the state of his chin; then he throws razor and shaving lather to the left. After them, gone also a pair of red jeans. At this point the Stylish Suit’s Box emerges. Smile. Ale puts it beside the suitcase with a special accuracy. Then he is about to seat again, but he can’t resist: he takes off his clothes, puts the suit on, and looks again at himself in the mirror, in different attitudes.

From outside, the usual voice: “Ale! You’re going to be late.”

Ale takes a look to the clock on the left table: later than he thought. Taking quickly off his clothes, he speeds up the work: and number one, two, three, four pairs of socks end up in the suitcase in a flash. Of what is still on the bed, he only chooses two t-shirts. And a striped jumper. A last thought, accompanied by a hand on his chin for more concentration… but the hand distracts him instead, noticing something unexpected, on that chin – and razor and shaving lather go back to the suitcase, accompanied by a dance of joy.
Ale arranges everything in it, takes the jumper away, and he can finally close it. He looks triumphantly at the suitcase and puts the jumper and then a pair of shoes on with affected self-possession.
Then he looks again at the suitcase, a little less self-confident.

The voice from outside: “Ale! Time to go!”

Ale leaves his thoughts, he takes the suitcase and is about to go out, but he immediately stops. He steps over the bed and turns off the radio. He turns to go leave by going around the bed, he finds the heap of discarded things in front of himself; with a shrug, he recovers the toothbrush and puts it in his pocket. Last look at the mirror: he goes.

Ale (going out) I’m ready!