The Rise of Agatha Songbird

A soloshow

As a child I fell into a deep river, head first, all in. I sank all the way down to the muddy bottom and
there I lost- and found myself. I was a young child, sleeping over at my best friend’s second home –
his father’s home. He was a drunk, not my friend, he was too young, but his father. I loved going
there. The father always boiled his socks in a big pot on the stove. The sour smell of the socks mixed
with the smell of smoke and booze. We ate chips and got lost, lost in the river. Down there, deep in
the mud, all the colours in the world were hidden. They embraced me, and they loved me. I felt that I
had longed for them my whole life. All of a sudden I was pulled away from the colours. The world, as I
knew it, went completely black and white as I reached the surface. . My friend saved me and the river
was named after me that evening. My friend’s dad said, from this day on, the river will be
called Agatha Songbird. That was the day I lost my voice. I revisited the bottom of the river every
chance I got – They laughed during our TV-dinner. . It was funny I guess, but I just had to see those
colours again, I had to feel the crazy rush that took my voice. I long to see those colours again and to
find the songbird lost in the water…