I build stories across stage, audio and screen.

Photos by Hector Manchego · click to enlarge

Scene excerpt

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.

Click a photo to enlarge

Scene excerpt

MIKI: So — when did you first use rent-a-family.inc's services? SUMI: About a year ago. MIKI: For? SUMI: For a partner. MIKI: A husband? SUMI: A husband, a boyfriend, same thing. A companion. MIKI: Why? SUMI: For company. MIKI: Why? SUMI: Why what? MIKI: Why did you use their services? SUMI: Because it's more comfortable. Simpler. More efficient. Compared to — MIKI: Compared to what? SUMI: Compared to a relationship with someone you meet by chance. MIKI: But doesn't it feel fake to you? SUMI: Not in the slightest. It's exactly what I wanted. Attentive, likable, a good listener — that one's a must! — communicative, caring. MIKI: Sounds ideal. SUMI: It is. For 50 dollars an hour, you get the perfect man. It's that simple. It's — (snapping her fingers) — a modern fairy tale. MIKI: And it doesn't bother you that you're paying for it? SUMI: Why? I pay for everything else anyway. MIKI: But his feelings for you aren't real. SUMI: Who cares about his feelings? (short beat) That came out really wrong, didn't it?

Photos by Alex Mihai · click to enlarge

Scene excerpt

PETRA: (in a slightly altered voice) The year is 2085. Water is a scarce resource. Clean water — scarcer still. Fish and the other water creatures are a long-faded memory. Some people wonder whether they ever really existed at all, like the Greek or Roman gods. The beaches come in three grades of grit: fine microplastic, coarse, or industrial. A romantic DINNER on the beach. The PARTNER sets up a minimal dinner on the beach, everything made of plastic, the food included. As "steaks" he uses two more substantial chunks of plastic. Everything's ready, but the PARTNER (f.) is running a little late. PARTNER (f.): (holding a plastic stick as a gift, or something similar) Happy birthday! And I'm sorry I'm late. PARTNER (m.): What? I didn't even notice. PARTNER (f.): They kept me longer at school — someone asked whether there was ever life in the water. And it took a while... PARTNER (m.): I can't understand people's fascination with life in the water. PARTNER (f.): We dug into all sorts of evidence and old videos. People still refuse to believe that back then not all the content was AI-generated. PARTNER (m.): So what do you need life in the water for when there's so much of it on land?! PARTNER (f.): Wow, you made dinner! PARTNER (m.): What do you think? PARTNER (f.): It looks splendid and smells delicious! PARTNER (m.): Sorry? It smells? PARTNER (f.): Sorry, old habits. (just as enthusiastic) It looks splendid and doesn't smell of anything! PARTNER (m.): That's more like it. PARTNER (f.) sits down and admires the dishes, studying them closely like a MasterChef judge. PARTNER (f.): Incredible, you get better and better by the day. (sniffing) Nothing, absolutely nothing. (about to eat) May we? PARTNER (m.): No, that's the plating. (hands her a smaller piece) Here. Enjoy. PARTNER (f.): (pretending to eat) Incredible, really noth— what is this? (taking another invisible bite) I can't believe it! PARTNER (m.): What is it? What happened? PARTNER (f.): (sniffing carefully) Nothing, absolutely nothing, and yet — (invisible bite) Impossible! PARTNER (m.): What is it??? PARTNER (f.): (holding it out to him) Go ahead and try it. PARTNER (m.): I'm honestly not that hungry. I kept tasting while I was waiting for you. PARTNER (f.): It can't be! PARTNER (m.): Fine, fine. (taking an invisible bite) There's nothing to it. PARTNER (f.): Chew slower. PARTNER (m.): (trying once more) It really doesn't — I can't believe it! PARTNER (f.): See? PARTNER (m.): NO! PARTNER (f.): Right? PARTNER (m.): Wow! PARTNER (f.): Yes, isn't it? PARTNER (m.): How is this possible? PARTNER (f.): Incredible! PARTNER (m.): Absolutely horrible. This plastic tastes like fish.

Photos by Marius Șumlea · click to enlarge

Scene excerpt

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 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?

Photos by Bogdan Botaş · click to enlarge

Scene excerpt

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?

Click a photo to enlarge

Click a photo to enlarge