Warten auf Godot

In a deserted landscape stands a tree. There, Vladimir and Estragon are waiting for Godot. But Godot does not come. Not yet. Perhaps he will come later. To pass the time, the two desperately seek something to do. They argue, perform acrobatics, talk about their lives, discuss their suffering, eat radishes and yellow turnips, speak nonsense, run back and forth wildly, take off their shoes and put them back on, observe the weather, describe the landscape, sing and dream – yet nothing happens. At some point, a man passes by, leading another man on a leash. Is that Godot? No. It’s Pozzo with his servant Lucky. Where are they going? Why does one dominate the other? What kind of world have we landed in here? A thousand things happen, yet none of it makes sense.