Cara Francis

I was at this bar. And this girl in the seat next to me kept screaming "Why do I keep hearing my name?" and then "It's Tiffany."

We were the only two in the room.

My name is Cara. I am interested in writing a revealing and personal bio for you to read.

But I wrote most of this bio late at night. And darkness makes me paranoid.

Makes me too afraid to inform you of my coordinates.

Or motivations.

Or secret liking of you when you look determined.

Anyone is beautiful when they look determined.

Anyone.

Even evil people.

Sometimes I am evil people.

Sometimes I run amuck in Brooklyn!

This also usually happens at night.

Right now it is morning. And I am finishing up this bio with relatively little at risk.

So I feel free to tell you that I have never been to Portugal. And I am not there right now. I am somewhere else, maybe performing "Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind" at the Kraine Theatre. In the East Village. On East 4th Street. Below the KGB Bar. I'm the one with the imaginary manila envelope full of damning personal or interesting mission-related information.

Are you watching me? Then why do I keep hearing my name? It's Cara.

Read Plays by Cara:

Captive Zombie Snake
Climbing the Nearest Thing