I still remember when Kelly told us about the rhythm in Shakespeare’s plays and how it had a lot to do with the heartbeat. At first, it seemed warming to me, but I guess I didn’t fully understand the meaning of it, until we started rehearsing The Tempest. As days went by, I realised that every time we said Hola we were just synchronising our hearts to listen and connect with everyone. After that everything we built came naturally, intuitively, easily, as ego was slowly being shadowed by active listening and bonding. I feel everything we did was generating spaces made of different people where each one of us was explaining and belonging to Shakespeare’s play, all of us were Shakespeare, the ones in the spotlight were one with the ones in the margins.

Theatre should be able to be played at any place, even in a small office with bright white lights, an underground gym, a sunny road, or in a dark box with spotlights and chairs. And, quoting Kelly, at places where theatre seems not to have sense to be played is where it should be played the most. No one should be excluded from theatre, as no one should be excluded from life.

This week we didn’t do therapy, we did theatre.

We part from a huge structure so that we can break it and be able to improvise and let ourselves be surprised constantly. And that’s how it was. Every day happened something unexpected; every day we met different people and worked in different spaces; everyday we made different Tempests.

I wanted to share one of the days from my point of view:

Suddenly you meet a child that stays in the margins and eats floor rubbish, and you don’t know why but he grabbed your hand when he was getting into the space, though now he seems not interested at all in anything you do. He traces the floor lines with his finger.

And when you do doyoyoyoing, he laughs.

He traces the floor lines with his finger.

And when you sing, he puts his hands in your neck.

He traces the floor lines with his finger.

And when you tip with him, he smiles.

And you decide to walk with him to the centre of the room to do the tipping with Aleix and Alfons. And again, he seems not interested. Everyone stops paying attention to him, and it is in this precise instant that his repetitive movement changes and he goes straight to the centre. Maybe he just needed 5 more seconds, maybe no one looking at him, or maybe it all was a mere coincidence, but he ended up doing the tipping in the middle of the space.

Once we’ve said our goodbyes he went back to the margins and tracing the floor lines, and after some time I went to talk to other participants. Suddenly, I felt a small finger caressing my foot. It was him tracing my toes with his hand. Again, maybe it all was a mere coincidence, but I felt like we were saying goodbye.

Maybe we didn’t get it all, but all that time we were knowing each other, perhaps inside a huge misunderstanding, but I felt that inside this misunderstanding we were together.

There’s something natural, intuitive, easy in everything we did; it was just being present and sharing; rehearse with opened senses and without taking anything for granted. Life should be it: natural, intuitive, easy; with opened senses and without taking anything for granted.

Clara Conangla, actor. March 2026