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Once when she was younger… when she used to go to the symphony alone… she was sitting in her chair… and next thing she knew she was floating up… to the ceiling… looking back at her body, sitting in the chair… she got very high… it was like watching herself in someone else’s film… this is her story.
A topology of desire.
Rituals. Private body parts. Daily routines.
A woman makes herself at home.
Originally created for the stage in cooperation with Miguel Ángel Gaspar.
|Produced by||Miki Malör|
|Subsidized by||Kulturabteilung der Stadt Wien MA 7|
I always collect a many things to tell a story, a single orange on the bed, or an egg, or the color of honey.
From the beginning she used to bury a lot of things in her garden. Dishes, jewellery, secrets, stones, bones, private things.
Sometimes there is a strong wind coming up in all the rooms all of a sudden.
In a dress with laces you will be eaten before the end of the day.
I put two eggs on my eyes, so the room rolls upside down and I spend the night with sinking to the ceiling.
The hardest time I ever had was when my vagina left me.
The carpet rolls and breaks at my needs, rolls back and bombs the house.
The carpet rolls and breaks at my love, rolls back and wrecks the house.
The carpet rolls and breaks at my dreams, rolls back and saves the house.
The carpet rolls and breaks at my sighs, rolls back and shoots the house.
The carpet rolls and breaks at my songs, rolls back and stabs the house.
The carpet rolls and breaks at my grace, rolls back and carries the house.
The lascivious one, the wide one, the hedgehog, the beauty, the star, the tear, the silent one, the grinder, the obtrusive one, the demander, the swollen one, the insatiable one, the bottomless one, the one with two lips, the humped one, the sieve, the restless one, the binding one, the adapter, the helper, the long one, the dueller, the beggar, the devotee, the closed one, the deep one, the biter, the sucker, the wasp, the hot one.
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