Ce qui s’est tu

“Why do we never say things?”. This simple question, asked by my godson, is at the origin of this text. We were discussing together the difficulties to which his young existence had exposed him. His father committed suicide in 2018 when he was 5 years old. Barely at the gates of adolescence, he in turn expressed the desire to die.

This play is akin to a prayer addressed to him, in which memories intertwine with dreams, memory offers itself to imagination, the fictional couples with the real, in an attempt to intervene in the deadly mechanism of discouragement.

Beyond the intimate story it unfolds, it is the relationship to transmission that is explored.

Divided into 6 chapters, like the stations of a Stations of the Cross taken in reverse, the play superimposes archive, literature, and theatre, in the manner of a palimpsest, to propose a rewriting of the wound.

The gesture that motivates the exposition of this intimacy is not to speak out as one would seize power over the tragic course of events, but on the contrary to return it to what has been silenced. To what, by dint of silence, ended up killing.