Show synopsis:
They.
A she spokesperson for them.
One…two…many stools that unmask themselves before an audience that doesn't want to see and doesn't want to be seen by. Hidden. Camouflaged as stools in front of the
eyes of all the blind people of this stupid, arid and unreal world.
But real.
Very real.
And it's squalid.
Very squalid.
Their experiences. Their lives. Their normality, which overlaps with a "different" daily life: but what their normality is, we can no longer know.
The story of a single voice becomes the overlapping of dozens, hundreds, thousands of different and always identical voices, in a kaleidoscope of squalor and solitude.
A slot machine parlor community of desperate loneliness, filled with smoke, caffeine, and involuntary excrement.
Told by a young female voice whose life, instead of opening up to the outside world, closes in on itself, sinks into a whirlpool that crumbles, swallows, overwhelms everything: family,
love, friendship, work. Everything.
Everything becomes a rot of lies in which the gambling addict remains inexorably entangled, mired in a slime into which she is forced by herself to sink in order to hide.
Initial anger and euphoria turn into increasingly intimate and secret confessions, increasingly profound and embarrassing.
But now the embarrassment no longer exists in his mind.
He was mocked by the desire to flagellate himself, humiliating himself to the point of annihilating himself and disappearing to be reborn as a slot machine.
There is no solution.
There is no escape.
There is only the desire to tell one's story.
Finally honest.
PRESS REVIEW
