J'étais dans ma maison et j'attendais que la pluie vienne

By chance created at the very heart of 2007, the Year of Lagarce, "J'étais dans ma maison et j'attendais que la pluie vienne" by Compagnie "Le Songe d'une Planche à Vif", is a hymn to the words of this author who died too soon, to femininity and waiting.

On an empty stage, a black box with walls eaten away by time, a rusty bathtub and five damaged women, the night following the return of the prodigal son. Women's bodies, bursts of voices, memories on yellowed film, the extravagance and complaints of sore women, modesty too, black, ochre and saffron, songs sung from the heart, the sweetness of water that is rare and good. And silence. This long, too long silence that tonight is cracking.

A demanding text for a staging that leads us to look at life through a magnifying glass: stronger, more concentrated in time and more legible.

This is where the play is born, with us, in spite of us. It guides and reveals us. And above all, it brings us closer to ourselves.