“We will raise our heads whenever we have to and we will look life straight in the eye but, even if it appears to be far off and unreachable, we will have the strength not to lose sight of it. And nobody will harm us, not even the pitiless scythe which we carry with us.

And after us others will come, with dark skin and fair hands, with broken bones and tired insides, with dead eyes and bitter lips, and on each one’s lips we will lay a freshly picked petal. Let’s sing, we will tell them, let’s sing. It is beautiful to die of music as the tide comes in.

And come tomorrow we will be ready, like an unexpected and surprising gesture. We shall have a warm frame and a dress ironed as for a feast. They will all think we are awkward, out of place and inadequate, but it’s only the trick which beauty plays on us.

The best scene will be what we make of ourselves, an almost perfect illusion, while we learn to lose the age of disillusionment.”

Augusta Balla, Giorgia D’Agostino, Silvia Genta, Paola Raho, Fulvia Romeo, Valentina Volpatto

Rossana Dassetto
set design
Teatro delle Radici
Roberta Quarzi
assistent director
Bruna Gusberti

text and direction
Cristina Castrillo

The setting resembles an old-time coffee concert house, the kind where people go to shelter themselves in times of hardship, hide themselves, or hope to find someone. The women who work there are escaping from various situations of violence, of exclusion, of alienation, and the sketches they prepare to entertain the audience, and their stories, as well as the interaction between each other, reflect these problems. They are of various origins and different ages, but somehow their circumstances are the same: they all have that old, familiar gag in the mouth which only rarely has let them make their voices heard.

The territory of the performance blends with the stories they have experienced, and the small anonymous stage in a half-buried bar gives voice to the reality which can be seen on the surface.

With ironic, melancholy and mocking dialogue, these stories become the plot of a powerful claim. It is not important whether the “customers” listen or not, if they applaud or simply want to drink or if they leave half way through without leaving a tip. To have found each other and to have defended a small personal sphere is the greatest exercise of freedom for these women.