Ferociously yours

A family portrait, with rage. Mother, father, daughter. No forgiveness possible. The love that is sought, desired, begged and never granted the daughter produces within her a current of hatred that increases the intensity of her torment, and ends in doom. The Ball is a Cinderella story without a happy ending; the fierce and faithful description of a family unit that immediately becomes autobiographical.

In these excesses, in this burden of unbearable pain and collective blindness, each of us can find a fragment of him or herself as son, daughter, mother, father. Some of us may be missing in this ‘family portrait, with horror’. But we all could have been there, in that house. The home of the wicked witch from whom we have to escape.

The Ball is a fairy tale open to all, to children as well. It remains etched on the eyes, and the night weighs on the heart.

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