There’s someone who has turned the time. . .summertime, wintertime, clocktime, time of subjectivity. . .
Since the time of human thought, the sun often rises gorgeous and golden …and gives us the light that we need so much. And, it connects us with everything that was before us.
At the end of the play one screams terribly. . . , presumably because he lost this connection.
This is a bow to where we came from, before it grew loud and colorful. . .