Amelia is a tribute to fragility, an invitation to immerse oneself in the dimension of memory and to let oneself be overcome by the sense of emptiness that comes from its loss. (Priscilla Pizziol)

Two bodies inhabit a single chair; they tell the story of a life together, sharing their solitude and trying to hold onto past experiences, worlds, and times. The (non)story unfolds in confused fragments; a constant flow of memories—and non-memories—to which the two characters attempt to cling. The bodies brush against each other, intertwine, support each other, and cling to each other, attempting to retain the memory, to not lose those small gestures within which they recognize themselves. The story hypothetically moves through different spaces, but in reality it inhabits only one: the chair. A single object as a reference point to which one returns to piece together one's past and understand the present. The chair exists, breathes, knows every secret; it becomes the place capable of holding confusion and feelings. In the performance, as in memory, time is not linear; the unfolding of memories merges with a present in which gestures, sounds, faces, and places mingle in a blurred mass of memories. The show is loosely based on the dramatic exploration of Florian Zeller's play and film "The Father." The project's intent is to create a narrative experiment that manipulates body, time, and space; an experience shared between actors and spectators amid the nostalgic pain of absence. A dialogue between solitudes, yet with a unified voice that seeks to escape loss: of the other, of memory, of meaning.