Nostos by Les Concejales. theater.
An absurd stop begins. a bus stop. Four strangers wait, and while they wait they talk to fill the void. Their faces look familiar, as if they lived in the same building, as if they were seen every day on television. They are recognized, but they don't know why. Your memory fails. Your memories are vague, confused and inconnected. And while they wait, something echoes in the distance. Rumblings approaching, could be thunder or firecrackers, They are the patron saint festivities of… But, and yes that is? Nobody knows what exactly it is, but it seems dangerous. and it's getting closer. They think about running away, but they don't know where. They think about acting, but they don't know how. They just wait. and the bus doesn't arrive.
The Corral of Cía. The Speaker. theater.
When I was little I played in a corral that was no longer a corral. It had previously been a medical clinic, with office and x-ray machine. It was also the place where my mother had a party with friends and where my uncles smoked their first cigarette while watching Valencia-Barça.. Later it was a warehouse, like so many spaces destined for oblivion. Until a layer of brown covered everything, leaving cracks everywhere and turning that house into an unforgettable place. Now the house is for sale. Will you have enough history to inhabit it?
