Time is us.
And in time, we create time. With sounds and words, with ideas and dreams, with gestures and memories.
I tell of myself, you tell of yourself, and in the meeting of our stories, new paths can be born. Together, we gaze at the adventures of Ulysses and the waits of Penelope. We will sing of the journeys and wait side by side. We wait, listening with eyes wide open, to your voice and our voices. We improvise with stones and reeds, but it is through the gazes and the silences that we will weave a new mantle. A mantle of flowers, perhaps of flowers or of fruits.
Because Time is Us.
