©Eynaudi & Hamou

BRUNO, a follow spot, an anticipation, a point of dew, an erotic assembly, a blinking dance.  À cheval between languages, BRUNO an oscillation, une figure qui disparaît, the displacement of a name, a dance of lights that light and dance: the sensuality of these dances crosses fields of picnics. BRUNO, a literary dance piece, un océan d’amour, a library, a choir, a cut, a pause, un bébé. A meditation, a fling, a house-hole, a house holder, a hold-up of a house. BRUNO strips the writing away from the dance, in chains, in lights, beaming, vaping, a somber extravaganza folded into a room.

BRUNO emerges from the mist like a stranded ship, a sigh left there. It cascades away into a pause. A piece of hole. Something that doesn’t happen. A breeze of what didn’t take place. A haunting. To let ourselves be haunted, to let ourselves be sung, to sigh, together, to stop, to blow, to turn around, to be sad, together. To not do much. To step aside, to let a rumbling moment pass, to weave our thoughts against a break, to nestle inside of a break. To brake, together. To rest, to be absent from an event, together. To caress a thought. To rest, to stay there. To not worry about a flow, to do things in vain. To not write scores, protocols, to wait, to cry, to stop, to not fill, to hold back the filling, to dance next to our shoes. To open a hand and let go, to not hold back, to lighten, to tenderly support, to relieve.

BRUNO is an emanation of a piece without an end, a cloth of friendships, of loves cobbled together. Located in a recently (or perhaps never) uninhabited linguistic space, BRUNO unfurls, unfolds its over-exposures.

————————————————