Waltz, bad nymh, for quick jigs vex.

What do objects tell us? What do images tell us? What do they say about the one who puts them on stage? About those who watch them? What narratives do things themselves reveal between these two poles? Pack my box with five dozen liquor jugs. In the end, what are the things themselves? Waltz, bad nymph, for quick jigs vex is a choreographic pangram in which the apparatus of the theater takes a hold on itself, the spectator looking more over the dancer’s shoulder as he dances for a non-existent audience on the opposite side. Glib jocks quiz nymph to vex dwarf. How the gaze is drawn to where one usually sits oneself as visitor, one faces one’s own phantom, so to speak. When he temporarily leaves us completely alone, the brightly lit stage trapping our gaze. Sphinx of black quartz, judge my vow. Dance as a fable, a constant transformation of the body and the space into different states, whose juxtapositions create a peculiar rythm not as linear coherence, but as elements commenting, shading and contrasting each other. How fast foolishly jumping zebras annoy… almost as fast as the five boxing wizards jump quickly.