Matthias Egersdörfer

In the morning, sometimes the sky starts to fall on you without warning. comes crashing down on you. The woman has slept too little or too much. She talks on and on. You are buried under an avalanche of words. You haven't had you haven't had a sip of coffee yet. You're glad that the force of gravity is working is working and were just about to count your fingers. What's bad about this situation is the speed at which the words are spoken. What's bad is the people rushing along the streets, the tractors racing across the fields across the fields, the high speed at which the news and disasters flash and thunder. catastrophes flash and thunder.

The whole evening is a celebration of slowness and that's why the stories are not told at an accelerated pace. But as an audience member audience need not worry that the slow pace might make you tired. that you might get tired. Because it may well be that the Egers gets angry at some point. gets angry. He often gets angry about everything and nothing. And that's when you wake up again.

"In short: yet another theatrical masterpiece from Egersdörfer, this so sensitive king of frenzy." (Süddeutsche Zeitung)