Four individuals in an empty space. A  space to sweep through, with nothing to hold onto. A space to construct either something stable, solid and balanced, or to madly throw oneself into instability and the “unsolid”: undeniably unusual as the unbalanced approaches the unknown. Immobility is inexistant or valueless.

Lost in their own personal clumsiness, their bodies must unite and flirt with falling, failing and the absurd.

Whilst enjoying the extraordinary pleasure of losing balance, the question of intimicy is evoked. The one which is broached only in our rare moments of despair and surrender. Like the fleeting intimicy of passengers aboard a plane that has lost control. They will need to discover what is lurking inside themselves. With no pretence and no protection. The encounter of their glorious unbalancedness with their glorious humanity.

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