The Oranges of Palaia Epidaurus

An ensemble, a group of seven people, with their lapel badges of wanderers and captains, arrive at the grove with the orange and the olive trees, in the shadow of the big rock. According to an old Greek custom, they decide to start singing, and thus to recite their own story, the story of every place, of this place. A love story about the only child of Epidaurus’ old rural doctor, the young woman who painted with her blood the Oranges of Palaia Epidaurus once and for all; the deep-red Sanguine.

Soon they become autonomous, refuse to comply with the century, so they stay far from it, they regain their own voice, the voice of nature and farewell. They let go of their initial faith in life, as is often the case of those who take life very seriously – out of faith in death – and their story takes flight, mounts, opens, and explodes like a big pomegranate; and then, they start reciting all the stories in the world. This story.

Stories that are told not only through the lips, but through the soul, the eyes and the hands, with their timing. The songs and words of farewell arrive happy and fresh, soft and juicy Apples of the Hesperides. The Oranges of Palaia Epidaurus.