–A Short Play in One Act by Samantha Mozart
Leo Tolstoy: I’ve run away into these fields and woods to be alone. Zounds! What are you all doing out here?!
Ivan Turgenev (back from the dead): Isn’t it beautiful? The golden fields, the little wooden church deep in the copse, the bells …
Nikolai Gogol (another dead soul): It’s chilly; where’s my overcoat?
Anton Chekhov: I’ve come out here to have a word with the Black Monk.
Me: Alexander Scriabin has taken my hand and run off with me through his music into this mystical space.
Vladimir Horowitz: He was crazy, you know.
Sergei Rachmaninoff: Well, we went to school together. Anyway, Volodya, here, plays his stuff and plays my third piano concerto better than I.
Fyodor Dostoevsky (also back from the dead): You idiots; a sanatorium is the only place for a saint.