Emi Vauthey

Performance story

The voices are no longer voices… they are everywhere. They cling to me, repeating the same phrases again and again, until my mind has no space left to breathe. I check, I start over, I do it again. Once, twice, ten times… never enough. The door, my hands, my thoughts — everything must be controlled, otherwise something will break… but what? Here, inside my head, it is a room with no door, no steady light, where thoughts loop endlessly like broken machines.