The nameless narrator of this blistering monologue lies ill and alone in a dreary hotel room in a poverty-stricken country. A political execution is about to take place beneath his window. Far from the glib comforts of his own life, he struggles with memories and his own conscience, which are challenged by the misery and poverty he sees. With compassion, eloquence, and ruthless self-scrutiny, the playwright discovers that having good intentions toward the dispossessed is not enough. As the narrator reminisces and agonizes over his own responsibility for the downtrodden, he reaches the inevitable conclusion that the politically correct are guilty themselves unless they take action. At the play’s conclusion, the narrator has succeeded in defining his own guilt but is uncertain whether or not he has the personal courage to join in the struggle. Aghast at his own weakness, he longs for forgiveness and the strength to earn it.
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