The End

Mole says 'I think we're nearly there' and it's one hour before the work in progress at the Arnolfini. This is four months after we started and a week before the premiere in Leeds Met Studio where our journey began. Whatever happens tonight the tour begins next week. The shoes have been bought. The Pilots costumes have been made. Hand stitched insignias from an army surplus shop. We bought Club Tropicana from i-tunes and a cable to project it with and that's the end of the show sorted. We are set up in the Dark Studio where we arrived a week and a half ago with an empty floor and something resembling a set. We have borrowed fans, heaters and fire extinguishers. A camera case is open. We packed it ourselves. We are at the end and there is nothing left to write. Mole is saying 'I'm empty I'm an empty vessel'. I've wondered when I've been writing this whether it is half full or half empty. I am struggling to fill what I see with sense. I printed this blog out earlier and it has 130 posts. 30000 words about nothing. Or making nothing. Or making something that says nothing. And now here we are. Doing nothing. We hope you come to see The Pilots. We hope you have a good flight. Mole looks at me and says 'Do I look like a pilot?' in the last rehearsal before the audience comes in and I say 'Yes'. Tim turns the lights off and plays Club Tropicana. Mole says 'How do we end this?' Tim says 'What are we doing?' Mole says 'Nothing'. This is the end.