Sunday (Finale)

[GEORGE, spoken]
Dot, why did you write these words?

[DOT, spoken]
They are your words, George. The ones you muttered so often when you worked.

[GEORGE, spoken]
"Order."
"Design."
"Tension."
"Composition."
"Balance."
"Light."
Dot, I cannot read this word.

[DOT, spoken]
"Harmony."

[COMPANY]
Sunday

[GEORGE, spoken]
"So much love in his words"

[COMPANY]
By the blue
Purple yellow red water

[GEORGE, spoken]
"Forever with his colors"

[COMPANY]
On the green
Purple yellow red grass

[GEORGE, spoken]
"How George looks"

[COMPANY]
As we pass

[GEORGE, spoken]
"He can look forever"

[COMPANY]
Through arrangements of shadows

[GEORGE, spoken]
"What does he see?"
"His eyes so dark and shiny"

[COMPANY]
Towards the verticals of trees

[GEORGE, spoken]
"So careful, so exact"

[COMPANY]
Forever
By the blue
Purple yellow red water
On the green
Orange violet mass
Of the grass

[DOT]
In our perfect park

[GEORGE]
Made of flecks of light
And dark

[MEN]
And parasols...

[CELESTES]
People strolling through the trees

[CELESTES, LOUISE, SOLDIER, & FRANZ]
Of a small suburban park

[COMPANY]
On an island in the river
On an ordinary Sunday...
Sunday...
Sunday...

[GEORGE, spoken]
"White. A blank page or canvas. His favorite. So many possibilities..."