המתת השור

There was once a short scene that I saw on TV when I was quite a young girl and that scene never ceased to come back in my mind at very specific moments of my life, as its message to me was so powerfully true.

It put two protagonists together, one made of flesh and the other of wood, but both were very much alive. The one made of flesh was tall and had human dimensions. The other one made of wood was small but both were attached by a set of strings which actually manually handled by the master puppeteer. The marionette was with a body of wooden sticks, a small figure with wide eyes frequently asking questions through his gaze to his handler, as every junction of his supple body and subtle face was attached through a thread ending on each finger of its master.

There was perfect harmony between them, so perfect that one could not easily believe that the wooden puppet had not a life of its own. And his silent gaze often turned upwards was barren totally of words but so engrossed with interrogations.

At first, there was joy between them. Childish joy as two children playing together, an intimacy made of mutual respect. Nobody was lingering along the road of master and child. But as the scene was maturing, came along questions silently asked. You could guess that the puppet was asking : ' who am I ? why am I linked to you ? what is your role here ?

And then, with smile flittering away from its eyes like a shadow left by a cloud : " what would happen if you let the strings go ?"

The master's answer was not immediate. He freed one string. One wooden finger dropped. The puppet looked amazed at this finger which went dead. Another string let go…another finger, another arm, another leg. And at each string detached, the human eyes were asking : 'are you sure?" and inevitably the wooden head went nodding. Until there was not strings almost attached between the Master and puppet but one finger and its head.

Then, there was a moment of silence. The Puppet was looking at his fife less body. One could hear the thoughts going through its head. A last gaze within the eyes of its master; a last nod…and the puppet went dead : totally free but dead