Het eind van het begin van het einde
Under a thick blanket of snow, there should be a performance. At least, that is what they said at the box office when we bought the tickets. Suddenly, snowflakes whirl up and something appears that looks like an empty stage floor. Is this the beginning? Is this the end? Hello?
Het eind van het begin van het einde starts where all other performances end: actors go home, cables are rolled up and all the gear goes into the truck. Ready to leave for the next theatre. But what if those theatres have disappeared in the meantime? What if all books and films have been forgotten? What if 'imagination' has become a weird word?
A performance that desperately tries to still represent something. Maybe the very last story can still be saved or perhaps there is even a way back? Will you help?