A woman and a puppet inhabit the urban space, reconstructing the symbolic gestures of other women who have inhabited it before them. The bodies are linked by threads and this link is the beginning of the dance and of a story that is made and unmade.

A Thread Falls From My Hand is a reflection on memory and its knots. In every experience there are knots that have been hidden or forgotten. The knots are the history that stands still, that does not breathe, that does not run along a thread. Each knot preserves a story, it is like a hard, closed fist that slowly opens and lets this ‘thread of my fingers’ fall.



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