I build stories across stage, audio and screen.

TANIA: I've never changed a tyre. BEATRICE: Me neither. BEATRICE: So what do we do? TANIA: There's no signal. BEATRICE: Did you hear a noise in the forest? DORA: Of course there's no signal, we're in a forest. And of course we heard a noise in the forest, it's a fucking forest where things live and make noise. , TANIA: Shall I get the spare tyre? Do we even have one? DORA: But why get the spare tyre out? Isn't it better to just wait for a bear to appear and ask him to take the spare tyre out and change it too? BEATRICE: Are you okay? DORA: Absolutely. [Can you bring the spare tyre? (they put the tyre near the car, on the road) Not there, put it under the car.] Why wouldn't I be okay? Because it's dark and anything can happen? Because the last half hour made me wish I was in hell rather than with you two in the car? Because I don't understand how two smart women jump at each other's throats like they haven't smelled each other's farts, held each other's hair out of the toilet while vomiting and haven't taken care of each other when they got smashed in a club they entered illegally before 18? [The jack.] (she reaches to look under the car, she places the jack) I'm super okay. [The lug wrench?] (she loosens two nuts, lifting the jack) By the way, I'm pregnant. And I still don't know what to do, but I'm fast reaching the moment where I can't have an abortion anymore. [Fuck these nuts. Come jump on the wrench.] (TANIA goes and tries it.) BEATRICE: Can you jump harder? Did it move? TANIA: A little, you try too baby! BEATRICE: Someone tightened these with a vengeance! TANIA: Probably a bear.

IZA: I tried making that pros and cons list. Do you know what's in it? Two words: PROs & CONs. I stared at it for an hour and I couldn't write anything, so I gave up. I started something else instead: Dear …, How should I call you? I don't know if it would be a good idea to find you a name. I don't know if you would be a girl or a boy. I've never thought about what baby names I like because I've never thought about whether I want kids or not. It's too early. It was. Well, for the moment, I'll call you how my dad calls me — munchkin. So, dear munchkin, there are two options. The first one: I'll write this and give it to you when you're old enough not just to read it, but to understand it. That is if you're born, if I keep the pregnancy which goes on smoothly and everything is ok. You never know what may happen. The second one: I'll write this and it stays with me, because I won't keep the pregnancy. Decisions, decisions, decisions. Anyway, you don't even exist right now. Some will say you do exist and writing so personal won't help me if I choose to have an abortion. On the contrary. I make something that actually isn't seem alive. I don't think you exist. I like to think I have the freedom to decide. I need to think I have the freedom to decide. I need to have the freedom to decide. Munchkin, what a stupid nickname. If I'll ever have a kid, I won't give him/her a nickname. Ok, nicknames are cute, they make you feel special. But, how would you feel to still be called Fatso when you're 80 and really skinny? I bet that when I'm 80, my dad will still call me munchkin. Old munchkin. Anyway, I don't know if you can make sense of anything so far. I keep trying to picture you and picture me giving this to you in 17 years. You should know that if you're ever born, you won't be unwanted. You will be loved. I'll love you like I never loved anyone, with that motherly love I keep hearing about, unconditional and so strong that they say you never felt true love if you're not a mom. That doesn't seem fair. Who decides what's true love and how does it feel? Who the hell can compare that what you're feeling is more or less than what I'm feeling? And how the hell do you measure this? If you're not a mother, you're not a woman? Or does that make you less than a woman? I need the freedom to decide what I want, what I feel, what I think. What do I think? What is the right choice?

RADU: I cheated on you. DARIA: I know. RADU: What? (beat) Since when? DARIA: Since April 9th. RADU: And you didn't say anything… DARIA: No. RADU: Fine. DARIA: Fine. RADU: Do you know with whom? DARIA: No. RADU: Ok. DARIA: Ok. RADU: And… DARIA: Yes? RADU: Do you wanna — DARIA: — what? RADU: Talk about it. DARIA: Now? RADU: Yes. DARIA: No. RADU: Fine. DARIA: Fine. RADU: You really don't wanna know? DARIA: No. RADU: Nothing? DARIA: Not a thing. RADU: Not even her name? DARIA: No. RADU: Fine. DARIA: Fine. RADU: Aren't you curious? DARIA: No. RADU: I'd be. If I were you. Just saying. DARIA: Fine. RADU: Fine? DARIA: Yes. RADU: We didn't do it here, you know. DARIA: I know. RADU: How do you know?