Salome: it seems as if everything happened to patch the great void, to finally reveal that kiss that everyone has known for nearly one thousand eight hundred years but the entire Renaissance did not dare to depict, nor did Botticelli, nor even Caravaggio, so just when the priests settled down, we were spared from this, they said and set forth a stampat matter, here’s someone who wore rings to carry it out (: more from finally than from execute).

It seems as if everything happened for love to unite with death on stage, on a disk that drips blood. It seems as if everything happened to be exposed on stage, seven years earlier than Freud's "The Interpretation of Dreams," that other thing we all have deep within our sleep. In Salome, everything happens in the night for one night until the end.

The triangle of Salome (Salome, John, Herod) is teased by this end. One wants until the end of the night and dies for it, the other believes until the end of the night and dies for it. The third is Herod: he survives because he decides not to reach the night until the end; he settles for a half measure, condescends to be drunk, condescends to promise exchanges, ultimately condescends to bargain, relying on a half measure that traps him - and then accepts the trap, abandoning every hard, gem-like flame in the dreadful "inevitability" of the world.

Herod is that sad figure who survived under the silver Moon - the one who covered himself, who self-wrapped to live filled with the bitterness of the grave. (From the Afterword of the book)