analogy/identity, the dynamic flux of characters and actions takes
　　　　  on a richer, more positive aspect. L and R, and the pair in the
　　　　  internal narrative by association, are "[a]s alike . . . as
　　　　  possible," not only "in appearance," but also in the way they sit
　　　　  and their sharing of the single "[b]lack wide-brimmed hat" between
　　　　  them (285). Whether these pairs are taken to represent the halves of
　　　　  the divided river, left and right, two aspects of a brain (as in
　　　　  Endgame), listener and reader (or speaker, as in Not I), "real" and
　　　　  "projected," psychotherapist and patient, mother and child (Molloy,
　　　　  Footfalls, and others), just two pairs of unrelated characters, or
　　　　  all of the above and more,(20) L and R (and the narrative pair) are
　　　　  twinned -- at the same time definitely two ones and a single whole.
　　　　  The destabilizing "trace" of the Isle of Swans -- and the
　　　　  destabilizing force of memories of the protagonist's ubiquitously
　　　　  absent, potentiated Beloved -- necessitates a revisioning of the
　　　　  pair in terms of their relational "without-context": they are beyond
　　　　  the categorical distinctions of two or one, ". . . identity and
　　　　  difference . . . ,"(21) even L or R, as they "conflow" around
　　　　  distinctions and "flow united on." While the play appears to be
　　　　  comprised of simple, static halves or doubles with no gray areas,
　　　　  these distinctions are effectively destabilized like the river
　　　　  around the Isle, signs and referents turbulently dividing and
　　　　  mingling like the interpenetrating halves of the white-on-black,
　　　　  black-on-white field of the Yin-Yang symbol.(22)
　　　　  L and R are thus one and not-one; they are beyond the pigeon-holed
　　　　  distinction of one or the other. Likewise, the relationship between
　　　　  L and R and the characters in the internal narrative cannot be
　　　　  categorized: L is and is not the listener in the story; R is and is
　　　　  not the reader; L is and is not the reader, R is and is not the
　　　　  listener. Yet what, presented in this light, seems to make Ohio
　　　　  Impromptu frustratingly complex, appears much simpler if one can
　　　　  achieve the enlightened state spoken of by Zen philosophers: there
　　　　  is no need for any one of the possible distinctions and connections
　　　　  between L and R and listener and reader to be any truer than the
　　　　  others: they are all true, while at the same time none of them is
　　　　  true. By making this assertion, we are taking the Buddhist "middle
　　　　  way," which "means not setting up any opposition between subject
　　　　  [me] and object [you]"(23) -- not making a distinction because that