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a movement theater performance dedicated to a disequilibrating contemporary world

Like you, I have a memory. I know what it is to forget. Like you, I too have tried with all my might not to forget. Like you, I forgot, like you I wanted to have an inconsolable memory. A memory of pixels and data. For my part, I struggled with all my might, every day, against the horror of no longer understanding at all the reason for remembering. Like you? I forgot… Why deny the obvious necessity for memory?…
When two people love each other like we do, no one can come between them, no one. Lovers like us because they know that nothing can destroy their love, even on the worst days, even when they are heedlessly hurting each other in the cruelest most deceitful ways, still carry in their hearts a concoction that never abandons them. Trust me.
There was silence. With our head on the pillow, our view was the radiator pipe, the lidded hole for the stovepipe, the window cornice, the curtain, the lines and corners where the walls met the ceiling, the cracks in the wall, the peiling paint and the layer of dust.

Floating seconds before the start of the day. Suspension. If I could stay with you…
The alarm rings again. I silence it. Again. 7’08. This is the age of fiction.
Afterward, I would say, look to me, listen to me. Thought number 1: Love is a strange land. No mercy. Thought number 2 : And what about you? Do you wake up with the same thoughts? Do you fall asleep in this lake of images, memories and fears?

Stranger’s faces hold no secrets because the imagination does not invest them with any. But the face of a lover is an unknow precisely because it is invested with so much of oneself.

I still think about this sentence. What does this mean? To be a stranger… Is that a function?
Is that a net? A tongue? Is that a move or a shadow? So strange, this stranger. This is the age of fiction and Baldwin has no mercy on our hearts.
I feel older. I feel like I’m in a lighthouse, some thoughts wander away.
I bite in the apple of Eve, so tasty.

When you talk, I wonder whether you lie or tell the truth.
– I lie. And I tell the truth but I don’t have any reason to lie to you.
Google knows everything anyway. No certainties.
The screens also should fall asleep.

I walk the lonely, lonely streets, a calling out for loving… But, Baby, you don’t give a shit for nothing…not for nothing.
Will you give me a cigarette? He asked, he had a new voice, newly troubled and when I looked at him I saw for the first time how the face of a lover becomes a strangers face. Bien sûr, I lit two cigarets and gave one to him. We watched each other in the fantastic tiny glow and smiled almost like conspirators. Then he asked. Do you love me?

I will not answer this question, lets come back to the now, an empty now, what I am trying to do is to tell you a story. A story of a love affaire. A special one. A one that was not yet accepted in my timing. A forbidden love. A one lets say like the one of Romeo and Juliet. A one between ancient and new gods. 


Here, in this dog-god-digitalville, the gods are.
The gods are here, in this house of fragments, in this theater, in this mash-up of analog and digital stories. 
The gods are-all-here!
The gods are in this orange box
The gods are in these ancient myths that fly around us, probably angry, looking for…
The gods are in the strange hours of screen cycles: NEW screen, waxing crescent, first quarter, waxing gibbous, FULL SCREEN moon, waning gibbous, third quarter and waning crescent.
The gods are here, in MY LAND, when the entire face of the Moon is lit up.
The gods are in the punchlines of artificial intelligence sexy-sexist fast answers.
The gods are in the dry spots, in the cash-points, they drop coins, and add me/like me, they check gmail testaments, and clean vintage bins, they intrude our private space to recharge. The gods are in MY LAND, to post the same story, and make us shut up and scroll, or shut up and read.
WAIT. Why Am I texting?
W.A.I.T. What’s the brand new, human condition?

Parler n’a jamais fait cuire le riz’
The cycle repeats once a month every 29.5 days

The dead fish are all here
Lying on the beach, a head in the sand.
The monsters making auctions teach us to how stretch. Selfies on top of the moon pyramid!
Why Am I teasing?
Why Am I twisting, talking, triumphing?

Why Am I turning?
Scrolling till the end for happiness… This is not a poem!

Beg.Borrow.Steal. Repeat.
Once a day, every 29.5 minutes

Here, in this dog-god-digitalville, the gods are. 
They are on our screens.

Hey Kae? Where did you say the gods are?

All gods are welcome here.
WAIT till you reach an all inclusive hybrid society.
WAIT Anything to say? (well) SHUT UP AND SCROLL. Or SHUT UP AND READ
Anyone in the audience that needs a scrolling break during this tiny hour? Please don’t wait. Take a STAND and please shut up, just scroll.

Free to access at any point. Here addictions are not punished, but accommodated.

Intellectual misses? Do you miss content, is our micro scrolling dramaturgy too superficial for your taste? Please take a seat and scroll through our books. Here addictions are not punished, but accommodated.


“And I want to play hide-and-seek and give you my clothes and tell you I like your shoes and sit on the steps while you take a bath and massage your neck and kiss your feet and hold your hand and go for a meal and not mind when you eat my food and meet you at Rudy’s and talk about the day and type your letters and carry your boxes and laugh at your paranoia and give you tapes you don’t listen to and watch great films and watch terrible films and complain about the radio and take pictures of you when you’re sleeping and get up to fetch you coffee and bagels and Danish and go to Florent and drink coffee at midnight and have you steal my cigarettes and never be able to find a match and tell you about the the programme I saw the night before and take you to the eye hospital and not laugh at your jokes and want you in the morning but let you sleep for a while and kiss your back and stroke your skin and tell you how much I love your hair your eyes your lips your neck your breasts your arse your and sit on the steps smoking till your neighbour comes home and sit on the steps smoking till you come home and worry when you’re late and be amazed when you’re early and give you sunflowers and go to your party and dance till I’m black and be sorry when I’m wrong and happy when you forgive me and look at your photos and wish I’d known you forever and hear your voice in my ear and feel your skin on my skin and get scared when you’re angry and your eye has gone red and the other eye blue and your hair to the left and your face oriental and tell you you’re gorgeous and hug you when you’re anxious and hold you when you hurt and want you when I smell you and offend you when I touch you and whimper when I’m next to you and whimper when I’m not and dribble on your breast and smother you in the night and get cold when you take the blanket and hot when you don’t and melt when you smile and dissolve when you laugh and not understand why you think I’m rejecting you when I’m not rejecting you and wonder how you could think I’d ever reject you and wonder who you are but accept you anyway and tell you about the tree angel enchanted forest boy who flew across the ocean because he loved you and write poems for you and wonder why you don’t believe me and have a feeling so deep I can’t find words for it and want to buy you a kitten I’d get jealous of because it would get more attention than me and keep you in bed when you have to go and cry like a baby when you finally do and get rid of the roaches and buy you presents you don’t want and take them away again and ask you to marry me and you say no again but keep on asking because though you think I don’t mean it I do always have from the first time I asked you and wander the city thinking it’s empty without you and want want you want and think I’m losing myself but know I’m safe with you and tell you the worst of me and try to give you the best of me because you don’t deserve any less and answer your questions when I’d rather not and tell you the truth when I really don’t want to and try to be honest because I know you prefer it and think it’s all over but hang on in for just ten more minutes before you throw me out of your life and forget who I am and try to get closer to you because it’s a beautiful learning to know you and well worth the effort and speak German to you badly and Hebrew to you worse and make love with you at three in the morning and somehow somehow somehow communicate some of the overwhelming undying overpowering unconditional all-encompassing heart-enriching mind-expanding on-going never-ending love I have for you.” (3’42 duration)


Digital Testament: Romeo and Juliet’s Advice on Managing Their Tinder Profiles by OpenAI ChatGTP
John William Waterhouse (1849–1917), Juliet (The Blue Necklace) (1898), oil on canvas, 72 x 48 cm,

Romeo: (Digital Testament) Dearest friends and followers, if you find this message, know that our love has transcended the digital realm. In the event of our untimely parting:

1. For Juliet’s Profile: Let it remain as a testament to the love we shared. Do not swipe left but remember the beauty of her soul.

2. For Romeo’s Profile: Leave it untouched, a digital memorial to a love that defied the odds.

3. Unmatch Us Not: Keep our conversations intact, a chronicle of our journey, our hopes, and our dreams.

4. Find Love: In our memory, we hope you find inspiration to seek love, cherish it, and hold it close.

5. Stay True: As we did, let authenticity and passion guide your digital quests for love.

6. Live, Love, and Remember: Let our story remind you that love can conquer all, even in the age of screens.

Juliet: (Digital Testament) To all who read these words, remember our love as a testament to the enduring power of connection. In case we must part:

1. Juliet’s Profile: Let it stand as a tribute to love’s strength. Swipe not left but honor the love that once blossomed there.

2. Romeo’s Profile: Leave it be, a digital monument to a love that knew no bounds.

3. Preserve Our Words: Our messages shall be our legacy, a record of our emotions, our laughter, and our tears.

4. Seek Love: In our memory, we hope you seek love with the same fervor we did.

5. Embrace Authenticity: Let our journey inspire you to be true to yourselves in the digital age.

6. Live, Love, and Cherish: Just as we did, may you find and treasure love, even in the realm of screens.

Projection during testament




starts at end of V1
00:48 press play V4
Solo voice 2:17 -> 2:38
02:38 press play V3
3:47 Solo voice
3:58 K&A +video
text: “choosing which cookies to refuse and which cookies to accept is totally up to you
action: serve cookies to audience (same kind as video)
4:12 K&A +video “I hope this gives you a better idea of how cookies help Google improve your experience on our side


press play at 02:38 of V2


to press play at 00:48 of V2
0028: K&A +video +audience: singing lyrics of song (cf under video) 

“C is for cookie, that’s good enough for me, yeah
C is for cookie, that’s good enough for me, ay
C is for cookie, that’s good enough for me, oh
Cookie, cookie, cookie starts with C
Yeah, cookie! Disco cookie!
What you say?
Well, I said C is for cookie, that’s good enough for me
C is for cookie, that’s good enough for me
C is for cookie, that’s good enough for me
That’s good enough for me, yeah
Cookie, cookie, cookie starts with C
Cookie, cookie, cookie, cookie”

-> to be song with the audience

“I hope this gives you a better idea of how cookies help Google improve your experience on our side“

And now, based on your cookies preferences we would like to share with you the top 10 most asked questions

1.Why did Juliet swipe left on Romeo? – money

2. How did we become afraid of Virginia Woolf locked up in a play store? – gmail testament

3. What do we still crave after scrolling at 4.48 in the morning? – happyness

4. What God have we been waiting for next to a pixelized tree? bot

5. What was the last tweet of Antigone from within her digital coffin? human condition

6. Is the “no exit” room in Sartre’s play actually just a Zoom call that never ends? same story

7. Has Gertrude Stein’s poetry hashtagged its way into a Dadaist meme war on Twitter? add

8. How did Iago’s LinkedIn recommendation for Othello lead to a major career meltdown?

9. Has Faust transitioned into a TED Talk speaker, discussing the ethical implications of selling one’s soul for unlimited knowledge and power?


1:09  He deserves an Oscar for this…… @kamleshmakwana4420
2 years ago

1:20 I literally have watched this every single day for the last 8 years. 4 months ago

1:37  better than any top-ranked MBA school

1:45 Go on take a look, don’t be shy

2:43 Can’t believe that line didn’t become a meme @Penguinfighter 6 years ago

I am a traveler in the desert
It’s nothing special
I can stand the wind
I can stand the thirst
And the sun
I know how to go and walk
Until the setting of the sun
In the desert, flat and empty,
Where nothing is given
My head is alert, awake

I have climbed up climbed down

The mountains where I was born
I know in which caves the water is hidden -> PRESS PLAY VIDEO
Theses worries are my friends
I’m always on familiar
Terms with them and that
Gives birth to the stories of my life
You who are organized
Assembled, walking together
Hand in hand, you’re living
A path which is empty of meaning

In truth, you’re all alone

K&A: Upgrade your experience! Enjoy an ad-free theater performances by subscribing to our Annual plan today. Scan the QR code to unlock a seamless and uninterrupted theater experience with your favorite theatermakers!”

Let us imagine a landscape, open and exposed, and in it is a square, a orange taped square. We could place ourselves within this square. From this promontory, we can dream up an intuition; we see an ocean made up of binary data and other algorithms accumulated over large periods of time, layers of acquaintance, which formulate a slow but seismic digital consciousness. Surrounded by pixel formations, we are committed to carry out the work of an digiteologist or a pixelographer: lower down through the encoded layers in an immersive logic of scrolling around, typing on some of the multiple possible shapes of the datascape we are coming in contact with. After all we are finding and experiencing the thresholds of love, while producing a reading path on this stage and on our screens, a very subjective one.

On some days it was the dust and the chill in the room; in others it was our pallid soilep, spectral sheets, our body, and the many sounds that filtered in from the life outside, from the traffic, from the endless noise of construction work and from the cries of the street vendors that led us to feel our lovemaking belonged not to the realm of dreams but to the real world.

As every true love affair, next to lovemaking tensions sometimes tend to get high. Elelctrifying.

Scroll till the end

for happynes

press play -> at 1min15sec


It starts with a swipe



Left or right? 

A: Stop it I’m gonna be sick 


K: Don’t worry my fellow all will be scrolled away

Same Story

Drop a coin

"Then he thought that he would always hold this false coin of a burning house in his hand."

What’s the best angle?
What’s my best profile? What’s your best profile?



And she looked in the mirror and she saw her lover

And she looked on her screen and she saw her lover

And she looked on her pictures and she saw her lover

And she looked on her socials and she saw her lover

And she looked the surface of the lake and she saw in its reflection her lover

And she looked on the surface of her phone and she saw in its reflection her lover.

And she was there standing on all these different places, posing, staging, experiencing fully her digital presence. Her digital love affair. Her heart committed to the pixels appearing again and again crafting an irresistible image of the self. In an age of digital love, of Tinder, Bumble eHumble, Happn, HER, Match, KIPPO, OkCuppid, Hingge she resisted. She was the one who fell in love with her own image, staged, digitalized, filtered.
Next to the phare of Nazare there where the biggest waves crash onto the cliffs, on top of the tower of Othello in Famagusta next to a ghost town, on the bottom of a temporary salt lake there where flamingos nest, in the late night clubs of Athens, on top of the moon pyramid in Mexico, somewhere in the desert of digital days, in the holly church of Palermo, on the slopes of Mount Etna, in the fast trains from Geneva to Paris to Amsterdam, on a drag-queen bar of Porto downtown, they have always been together, she and her phone, she and her reflection, sharing a unique moment, sharing a love affaire so violent, ecstatic, overpowering… that supersedes all other values, loyalties, and emotions.

I told our story.  

It was, you see, a story that could be told. 
For so many years I hadn’t  found… the tarte of an impossible love again.
Look how I am forgetting you… Look how I’ve forgotten you.
Look at me.  

Upcoming Dates

May 2024
May 29
29 May 2024 20:30 - 23:00
Le Pneu, 18 rue du vélodrome
Geneva, 1205 Switzerland

ANALOG <-> DIGITAL listeningsession + live set Experience ANALOG <-> DIGITAL in its SPIN OFF listeningsession +live set Is dedicated to a disequilibrating contemporary world. Analogue sounds compete with digital…

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