We have been delayed by most of the viewers who visited the play. We have hardly had time to greet ourselves outside. I have heard comments such as those that have already become common: “Do you have tickets, or me?” and “I made you a bizum”, as stress before acting on the doors of the School of Theatre of Navarra. Theater workers have made us in Basque. I don't know when I'll stop feeling guilty again for being surprised. We enter and are few people. There are too many things in Pamplona to be a working day. Cultures are divided into: Laba, the village bar, the MIN awards -- to the detriment of the theater.

The back of the fabric has been exposed: geometric wooden structures and our two characters, Alderray and the slave. The second has no name, and that is precisely one of the keys to the work. But where are they? At home, in an abandoned building, in the park, in the street? The slave threatens his boss to show him that he is insufficient and to flee. So they start telling stories. An unfortunate girl, in the top zazpia; a successful worker and act; the immobile, frozen reader; or terrorist friend Lapur. The story of each character is a lesson in the dialogue between the two actors. The social character and the present are clear, but I still do not understand the vintage-postapocalyptic aesthetic.

They oppose literature by real stories and characters. Alderray rejects self-fiction. “History itself is not normal,” the slave replies, suggestive, playing with mirrors.

In the story of the robber of sins, suspicion has spread as a smell of incense and has been confirmed with the curia Ama: “We will call it” the meta-history. I don't want to impress anyone by telling them too much. But let me tell you that Patxo Telleria is used to the fact that in this sad play, humor does nothing but a few small choirs. I have heard sour feelings abroad, “I laughed.” But he's also played a game to pick what his favorite story was.