A story of the city in sixteen acts, recurring scenes with variations, of loss and humour. A look at the colour that is not a colour. Remembering Charlie “Africa” Keunang.

Shot in the murk and fog of a breakdown. Friends jam, a body lies on the ground, James Baldwin visits his father for the last time. Inspired by Black Lives Matter. Remembering Charlie “Africa” Keunang.

“A newly completed, expressive portrayal of African-American social life and family bonds amidst the ceaseless backdrops of segregation, poverty and brutal police violence.” Steve Anker, Redcat

A repeated scene, a déjà vu: a body lies prone on the street in front of derelict buildings. A woman walks as if she were a stranger to her sneakers, carefully padding towards doors that refuse entrance, and then a colonial architecture, and finally a classroom. Perhaps it’s time to learn these lessons again. Southern trees bear strange fruit. A gaggle of friends hang out and play trust games, though it’s all for laughs. James Baldwin meets his father for the last time, wired up in a hospital bed, speechless. What is there to say? I can identify. Inspired by the doyennes of the Black Lives Matter movement.

One evening an actor asked me to write a play for an all-black cast. But what exactly is a black? First of all, what’s his colour? Jean Genet

They have brought humanity to the edge of oblivion: because they think they are white. James Baldwin

“Incredibly moving, depths and layers of emotion in the montage. Haunting images of bodies that are still.” John Greyson