The poultry yard

The louche naked man with the COCK mask wonders where the boundary between one yard and the next actually lies when there is no gate to be seen.  There is a sign painted on a board nailed to the side of the barn declaring this is the poultry yard.  Standing reading this sign you know where you are.  It is important to have a general agreement on the name, if you were to say to your friend: meet you in the poultry yard you would know where to meet.  But not here, of course, here you could not speak.  What’s in a name if you cannot speak.  

The louche naked man with the COCK mask thinks about the agreement of silence.  Is this agreement to silence the payment for visiting the House of Masks?  Is there something to be gained from the House of Masks that makes the cost of silence worth paying.  It is a place of strange abundance, with no need for nourishment of any kind: no food or drink.  And no sleep or rest.  And still stranger, no fatigue, no discomfort, no pain.  Is this some kind of VR that can disregard the physics of being human, VR that is so convincing the user forgets they are mainlining a fantasy.  This strange fantasy world of just wandering about the yards, looking, observing and thinking interrupted by juvenile rude performances narrated via a tannoy.   

The louche naked man with the COCK mask thinks about the process.  Is the process itself what the visitor gains: the vulnerability of the naked form combined with a vow of silence while interacting in the form of an animal, perhaps a spirit guide or some sort.  Does the process break down prejudices and paranoias allowing the participant to reach some moral enlightenment?  Will the final yard visited finally reveal the secrets to living in a state of nirvana?.  But if this process is so wise, then why is some hack breaking into the process to deliver cliched lines for them to perform?

The louche naked man with the COCK mask could lift the mask and shout a word.  At any point a hand could be lifted, a mask removed and a word shouted.  Perhaps shout out: WHAT IS THIS ALL FOR? Or FUCK YOU!  Or something clever to show the great insight they have gained from these naked mute wonderings as an animal.  Would there be time to utter a word or would some form of mask police bundle the miscreant through a hidden door into another world: perhaps the dungeon of the unmasked.  A few other naked masked figures have entered the poultry yard, some wearing poultry masks of one sort or another.  Perhaps the reason no one takes off their mask and shouts is because no one ese is taking off their mask, no one else is trying to speak.  In the same way as Poultry Yard is accepted by all to be the name of the yard because everyone agrees, so silence is accepted because everyone agrees.  Or at least, thus far no one has chosen to rebel.

The naked louche man with the COCK mask waits and watches, wondering what approach to take, whom to approach.  Would two naked actors both playing the role of poultry be more likely to make friends than a cock and a cow?  Would thinking of this as a process make it counterproductive and more the player further from nirvana?  Should the role of the cock simply be all consuming and let any further observations be enlightening.   The tannoy interrupts.: THE GAMECOCKS AND THE PARTRIDGE IS NOW COMMENCING.

The naked louche man with the COCK masks joins the mellay, the general seemingly random movements of naked participants with poultry masks in the centre of the Poultry Yard.

The barn
The louche naked man with the COCK mask sits in the corner and realises little can be...

COCK
The cock loves being amongst the hens.   The cock can mate a dozen times a...