SARAJEVO – La strage dell’uomo tranquillo_studio


concept and creation: Gennaro Lauro
co-production: Associazione Sosta Palmizi (Italy)
award finalist of Premio Equilibrio 2018

supported by: Impasse/Cie Greffe (Svizzera), Dansomètre (Svizzera), Lo Studio (Svizzera),
La Ménagerie de Verre (Francia), L’Echangeur – CDCN (Francia)

“Un solo per non essere solo” – a solo, in order to be not alone.
We are plunged into a war without name or definition. We go through the so-called terroristic at- tacks as events of a war that we are not able to see as such. Still our everyday life is shaped by a silent alertness and circumspection, our peace-time is not peaceful at all, but nervous, hysterical, suspicious. What is war, is it what happens outside? in newspapers? in battlefields, in our houses, in ourselves? How many forms of war are there? Or are they rather the same thing? Is what happens outside that affects our way of being, or maybe also the opposite?
As individuals we are alone: professionally alone, emotionally alone, psychically alone, socially alone (an oxymoron, and yet real). How can we recover our capacity of sharing, of trusting, of being together. How can we make solidarity be real and not just a naive vow? How can we be less cynical in front of our being human?
In the postwar time, when human disaster is attested, help and sharing are the only way to make or build something – in a very concrete and physical sense. There, where the world is something to be rebuilt, we’ll meet again, beyond our solitudes and fears, since fear itself needs this world to exist.
How can I be less alone through a solo?

There is actually no further time or space to be human beings.
Paradise is a form of the present moment.


Sometimes you find me in my room,
going mad with spectres,
for my mother told me
to be kind to everybody.
Still, I am not the Messiah I often thought I was,
but isnt my duty anyway to seek after truth?
Not all of us will be dazzled by her.
Light exists even where it doesnt shine.
The illusion of the eclipse:
it is we who are hidden from the hidden light
And yet, it is with pleasure, you know?,
that in the late-summer night I died
in Sarajevo

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