Previous Shows: 2015: We Play So Hard At Being Human: Ahna Serendren
Inner travel reveals the oddness of skin. Tight, loose, shedding, spotted, wrinkly – limited, a boundary line, containers. The only way beyond is through and I could be scared of my own nutness, certainly yours. The body as machine, a vessel, gravity. The mind as witness, storyteller, Ringmaster. Pitch a tent in the warm sun and a picnic lunch. Your reflection and you, the great re-‐assembly. I come back to the low song – a chorus of breaths – fragments come home.