IN

It’s not just a woman in a room, it’s the psyche in confinement, fighting for breath and meaning.

Claustrophobia has rarely felt this poetic. Every shadow, every wall pressed closer until I felt trapped too.

When she reached for the light, I believed, maybe liberation is possible, even inside four walls.

The stark walls, a lamp, a clock, nothing wasted. Every object screamed louder than words.

The lighting carved her body into sculpture. Pain became architecture

This felt like Beckett with movement. Absurd, raw, yet searching for grace.

The suffocation here is both physical and metaphorical. A masterclass in showing inner turmoil.

I saw myself in her panic, her humor, her collapse. That room became every trauma I’ve locked away

The collaboration with Galván is wild. Flamenco intensity meeting existential dread. It’s mesmerizing.