Written and performed originally in French in 1953, this play is interpreted as humans‘ inexhaustible search for meaning. Beckett‘s minimalistic language evoked an existential literary wave in post-World War II Europe. It‘s impossible to rate but seems to stand alone in its absurd nature, and produces subjective reactions from readers/watchers. What are we waiting (or striving) for, and what do we do while we wait? I‘m sure Dr. Viktor Frankl (of⬇️