The Fall of Sleep

The Fall of Sleep imagines a funeral for the ends of sleep.
In late capitalism, nights no longer fall. They stretch, flicker, and refuse darkness. Sleep is reframed as a resource: tracked by apps, disciplined by science, secured for productivity. And yet, sleep resists. It slips through schedules, interrupts attention, unsettles control.

This performance treats sleep not as absence but as presence. An unstable force that intrudes, disrupts, and escapes capture. Through sound, voice, and movement, it summons a nocturnal zone where lullabies meet post-club echoes, where listening drifts and orientation falters.

The Fall of Sleep carries a lament: for what is slowly eroded, for what drifts away, for what remains only in fragments. At the same time, it honours what survives. Sleep as fragile commons, as collective gesture, as the faint promise of another world.