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Show 170 I surprised everyone, including myself, by landing the rc?le of Haeman. A voice spoke through me; the words on the page dictated every rise and fall of my voice; and once again I gave myself over to them. Early on I made love to Antigone, played by this very intense, very dark, very Greek-looking girl with bad breath. The golden Ismene was something else though: named Amelia Rubin, tall, sorrel hair and golden skin, as tall as me and looking even taller with that shining hair rising thickly about her head, abundant and rich upon her shoulders. Her features were sharp and delicate; her translucent skin had three or four freckles just to show how perfect it was. She was beautiful, but of course that was irrelevant. It was her personality that attracted me, and I told her that with her projection she was wasted in the role of Ismene, who wasn't on stage that much and who was a fink anyhow. "You think so?" "Sure. You've got a sort of magnetism. Really." "Hummm. Well, I certainly couldn't play Antigone; I'm al1 wrong for her. And anyhow, a good actress can give her all in any rftle, no matter how small." Being the same height, we looked directly into each other's eyes. Hers were greenish, with golden flecks in them-which was of course neither here nor there. I said she caused a problem though, for how could the audience's sympathies flow toward Antigone while they watched her as Ismene? She had a sweet snile, not sexy or brilliant but sweet, and after our talk she smiled at me a lot. We were friends and I started walking home with her, she to an apartment on 54th Street. I explained my theory that men and women could be friends if they just had enough strength of character, and she liked it, she thought we really could. "Actually we are friends!" she said. So when we got to the corner of her block, she would wave goodby and go on. "See you later, buddy," she would say, and I'd go west a few blocks to the Co-op |