First inner monologues arriving!

Some really good samples of Blanche's inner monologue after her arrival in New Orleans:

For heavens sake! Where am I?? Can this be Elysian Fields?? It looks terrible, awful and… above all, very, very poor!!! This is, I believe, the most horrible section I have ever seen. Rubbish, only rubbish. Here is Stella living? Elysian Fields was such a nice name, I really thought it was a nice area. Like the name tells you: Elysium! The paradise of the ancient Greek heroes! But this? This is not Elysium. It is terrifying. It is so … dirty. This old streetcar named Desire was even wonderful in comparison to this! How can someone live here? The whole city –every single part of New Orleans- does not look like a living area but like a rubbish dump! The people here also: dirty and ugly clothes, a strange vocabulary. They all belong to the working class!!! Where are the gentlemen? Where are the rich, nice, young and handsome men? Where are the? Where are the glamorous appartments? I must be wrong here. Stella cannot live here! They mustn’t have understood where I wanted to go. This is definitely not the place, where my little Stella would live. We grew up at Belle Reve! Oh, Belle Reve! Ha-a-ha! If someone of my admirers could see me now! Here! At such a location! They would wonder why I went to this place! Ha-ha. … I feel so hot and frazzled. Where is my Stella, my baby? … I have to powder my nose, before I can ask for the way again…

By Christine

Shoulders back, belly in, head up. How could I forget about that? Negligent- Yes, I know I am,always have been, always have feared to be, always have realized the day would come.

Resignated- Oh, no! I must extend the time till the day I...the day I...crack of thoughts,negligence, come back...I become sagging, fat, wringled, cellulite...Dominate yourself! The day I get- here? Oh, God, I look ugly in the middle of these surroundings. Dusty streets under my pumps, worker sweat on my dress and above my hat- a lack of glamour. There cannot be a star. I´ve got no colour, I´ve got no form, nor do I have the right address. Six thirtytwo: There are

many six thirtytwoes in a street. And what in the name of my powder is a Desire on four wheels?

Four rickety, shifty wheels? One is missing, one too much, that was a planned attack. They had go tvictims accomplices and- Oh, don´t talk stuff! My desire on two feet is something sparkling like a star.

Stella! For star... This cannot be Stella´s home, this can´t be Stella´s home. I wish I could lie in a bed of feathers, and perls. Do I bite my nails?! I haven´t done that since I was four. Haha, four! Four wheels and a lonesome dirty town. Lalalalala...Aaaahhh!!! A woman! Black! How could I have overlooked her? Did she see me? Do I look plump? Belly in.

By Annabelle Junger