One body, one treadmill; a greeting, one smile, a Hallo!: a shy one, a flirty one, a silent one, one pedantic; one Hallo! in the scream, another in the whisper. Beep—the treadmill starts; beep—it goes faster; beep—it goes faster and you run run run, but what if you collapse? The lights are on; the audience cannot help but respond: “Where are you going? Don’t work so hard”… A rupture occurs with a shift in the rhythm and it cuts the run.
It stopped but not really, we applauded but the machine continues to roar, and now they ask us to talk about our emotions, how the piece made us feel, they say it’s the Part II—it’s the emotionality I escaped from and now it’s embedded in a vigorous minimality: “we, people from Turkey, cannot really be minimal,” I think to myself, “when the normative masculinities are on your back, you learn to say more in short words and hide things in a Hallo!.”