The new work by Sicilian playwright and director Emma Dante, who has been exploring the theme of family and marginalisation for years with a poetics charged with tension, madness and a subtle vein of humour, tackles the drama of femicide. It is a bitter and visionary tale about the silence that surrounds the victims, the absurdity of violence that has become normalised, and the impossibility of breaking a cycle that repeats itself endlessly.

One day, within a family, the husband's habitual violence towards his wife turns into femicide. The man kills her by smashing her head with an iron. The woman lies on the floor, dead, but her death is not enough: no one believes her. So the woman, like the angel of the hearth in whose grotesque image she finds herself trapped, is forced to get up and return to the same routine, cleaning the house, doing the housework, preparing meals for her son and husband, and looking after her elderly mother-in-law. Every morning, her family finds her dead and does not believe them. Every morning she gets up, opens the coffee pot, which is closed too tightly, and begins again to suffer her husband's violence, her son's depression, and the impotence of her mother-in-law, who, instead of condemning her brutal and despotic son, pities him. Every evening, the wife dies again, as if in a circle of hell where the punishment never ends. In the dim light of a sleeping house, the angel shakes the edges of her dressing gown and tries to fly, but she is only allowed the intention to fly.