Oh, how it's raining. Streaming down the windows of the dry goods store, Torrance Mercantile, in the Deep South, where Lady Torrance is marooned in a stiflingly small town and a loveless marriage with an awful secret. Depressing. "We're under a lifelong sentence to solitary confinement in our own lonely skins," says 30-year-old drifter Val Xavier in his snakeskin jacket, holding onto his only companion in his wanderi…
SOURCE: The Arts Desk at 08:05PM on October 30, 2012