‘I live between two theatre curtains
One opens to the world, the other towards myself.
Rarely.’
(G.G.)

A man falls off the roof, falls several floors, and lands on the ground with a roof tile in his hand. He cannot see, hear, move, but he is alive. When falling, he sees through windows, his eyes ‘photograph’ the images of frozen life scenes. The ‘photos’ form a montage as if they were double-exposed. This is his final and only memory. Then on the ground, he builds up a new world from the small details of this one picture. Whatever is in his imagination will be imprinted on his retina. Does it really make a difference if the image is projected on the retina from the inside or from the outside?
Why do people not look into each other’s eyes?
The figures and situations on the 25-metre-deep stage are the reflections of the images that appear in this paralysed person’s mind.