UNDER WATER

A woman doesn’t know how to float on her back. Her attempts to stay afloat take her through a whirlpool of memories, some distorted, some imagined. The loneliness is broken by four voices who oscillate between compassion and sabotage.

Her fears gather in layers of different intensities and consistencies. There is almost always a flickering light.

❝I’ve written about fears that acquire an outline and transparencies - like little streams cracking a chalk wall. About the echoes of my South and of those of the rain rituals. About life, in which you throw yourself without knowing how to swim. And you keep learning> that you have a body, a family, a voice, more than one - friends and strangers, at the same time. I’ve written about her. About the world seen through layers of mistrust, frustration, self punishment, fears, like through water. A world where you don’t know where the village ends and the asphalt begins, where the magic ends and the ordinary begins, where life ends and death begins. The world where you start seeing yourself clearly.❞  (Ioana Toloargă)

❝I was little and I went into the sea. My mother or my father or my mother and father held my hand when a wave flipped me over. The Black Sea has strong waves. I touched the sand at the bottom and for what seemed like a very long time, I struggled under the water. In a loneliness that is impossible to describe. For me the sea is the quiet that shrouds fear.❞  (Olivia Grecea)

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