Two-part mono-performance/contemporary ode to Mum

"Say something nice. Please... Speak at last. You know how long I've been waiting for this. Say that you love me. Give me a hug. Whatever they say. I am innocent." -

"SILENCE" - A young mother of twins who one night, in despair, blurts out:"Lord, stop all this. I beg you. If this goes on, I'm afraid I'll suffocate him with my own hands! The next morning, she wakes up, looks at the clock and sees that time has stopped, listens: it's suspiciously quiet. After all, it hasn't been that way in this house since the twins were born. There are no sons around. She enters the children's room, which is also silent, and on the table there is a note: Rest, for a few days Caius will sleep with me. When you feel you can talk, call me. He runs to Au's room - silence. Looks into his hiding place - empty. From that moment on, Silence stumbles: hasn't the night's cry drowned in the silence? But why doesn't she remember anything more? What happened? Did it really happen? Where is Au? Why does the present tense take the place of the present tense as soon as she begins to speak? Who buried him? Is this just a dream, trying to talk her out of it, so that all that has been silent for years can finally be heard?

"Silence" is a mildly poignant, sourly bitter, but at the same time transparent and fragile to the point of trembling, contemporary ode to the mother, which is inspired by the unembellished reality of families affected by autism.

"The play in no way reflects the whole reality, its aim is not to shock, not to protest, not to find fault, but to make the public aware of what we are sometimes, by our own (and not only) willingness to be created, blind and indifferent against. The play is not intended to prove its own truths, but to thank ALL THE MOMS OF THE WORLD, who have discovered and are discovering in themselves enormous strength and who, with infinite love (even if they stumble and fall, but stay together), are raising us -  ALL of us." Andra Kavaliauskaitė shares her thoughts on the mono-performance. - I have to admit that this is the most sensitive and precious thing I have created so far. For myself. It's more than a mono-performance. But to feel it, you have to meet it. To be open and ready to hear the other. Not to judge, not to criticize, not to pity and regret, but to ..."

The play is recommended for all parents-to-be, parents-to-be, and anyone who is ready for an open, naked meeting.

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

"I love to listen to the sound of the rain against the tin window sill, and the sound of the snow melting on the pine branches. I like to smell the wet asphalt in spring, he likes to sit in a puddle and look at his reflection. How are we different? You can shout that I am the mother of the devil - it doesn't hurt anymore. The only question is: how are the children of God's mothers different from us? Do they all smell the same? Do they hear everything the same way? Do they behave identically? No, I am not trying to compare. I am just trying to understand what have we done to you that you are doing everything you can to divide and separate us?"

"You have heard everything today. I opened it all without meaning to. Or rather, not expecting that I still have the strength for that. But the pine trees rooted in my chest are probably to blame for all this. They were snowed over this morning. I can feel them melting and dripping all day long. Reminds me of us, doesn't it?"