A stage on a stage: a large circle of white light, like a dance floor waiting for clubbers. There he is, he walks smoothly onto the stage, wearing trainers and white underwear, with a mix of self-exhibition and shy intimacy. He comes forward with a confident and perfected step, stops and stands with his weight slightly on one hip, as a modern David looking at his reflection in the mirror. He strides along the bright space, and stops in the middle, then on the side, complying with the silent injunctions of a mirror
in which you must always look good. He leaves the stage. Then he comes back, followed by a slower, bulkier man. Two men, two bodies pose on the side of the circle in contrapposto, as the Renaissance artists had it. Two bodies, two solos for an impending duo, two different rhythms, one is very lively and uses a lot of space and the other dances statically, using less space the other. They do not see each other, nor do they touch. They ignore each other, they parade, they exhibit themselves. They stop dancing, in order to focus the attention. The David-like man hums, strides
along, jumps and leaps and the other man is impassive, he moves his Heracles-like physique. They both use the dance floor space, without speaking to or looking at each other. That would be useless because only the other’s presence legitimises the feigned indifference.
Suddenly, the stage goes dark, and gradually, it gets brighter. In the back, the two boys are dancing on a soft, slow tune. They ask questions to each other and answer them. “Where are you?” “I am here”, “Look at me”, “Do you hear me?”, trying to find each other in the dark, groping around, calling out with voices that die out. The restlessness in their bodies is useless and is to no avail; they dance to exhaustion and run out of breath. They shout themselves hoarse in vain on a stage that is pitch dark once again. It is the story of two men who did not manage to really meet, of a relationship they will never experience.