"Waiting for Godot" on ice and snow, without words. Against a barren winter landscape, a figure approaches: it's a man, pulling a small sleigh on which another man sits, plucking a dead bird. They stop to trade places; the one now on the sleigh takes out his knitting. Accidents, misunderstandings, disagreements, and an outright fight await our absurd protagonists as their trip to nowhere continues, first with one pulling, then the other. What if they were to lose the sleigh? What rules of civilization and partnership would guide them then?

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