All that will happen from now on" at the Poliorama Theater

There is no good reason to talk about death. Hopefully we never have to talk about it. There would be something dignified, even admirable, in refusing to talk about it; in forever forgetting the unbearable questions: Why do we die? Why do we have to die?

A sixteen-year-old boy crosses the city at night to go to the hospital to say goodbye to his father. Why? Why tell this story again? We already know how it ends. There is no good reason to talk about death and yet, talking about it is inevitable. Throughout the process of creating this work, we have talked a lot, for hours and hours.

We have talked about our deceased loved ones, those who accompany us and will always do so even if sometimes we don't think about it enough, can't think about it enough. We have also talked with children who have lost their parents, with partners who have lost their companions. They have shared their most cherished memories with us: The last trip to London, that song they always sang and I have not been able to hear again, the secret pact we sealed at the last moment...

To them, many thanks. There is no good reason to talk about death but, at the same time, what sense does it make that we talk about it so little? What absurd evolutionary mechanism leads us to want to deny it? To hide it from the eyes of the youngest, to behave as if it is not there, as if it does not always accompany us wherever we go?

Surely there is no good reason to talk about death and yet, we have felt the need to do so again. To face forces we do not understand, to affirm once again that we love people who are no longer here, to honor the darkness and celebrate the light, to remind ourselves that despite everything, we are here.

Critics' Award 2024 for the best text for Joan Yago.
Critics' Serra d'Or Award for Performing Arts 2024 for the best theatre production.