A story about the severity of stories themselves: how they can trap and free us, how telling them can be a child's joy and an adult's burden, how inevitable it is that we view our own lives as little narratives that we inhabit. Gwynn drives a fascinating divide between the limiting nature of stories and the escape of telling and retelling them, with an ending that is emotionally satisfying while being necessarily, insistently, blissfully open-ended. I can't wait to see it creatively staged.

At a time in history that feels driven by chaos, steeped in existential dread, and howls with loneliness, we need this play. A palpable reminder that we are capable of forging new paths forward despite, and perhaps even BECAUSE of, what we've known to be true. This play removes the training wheels and knocks down the walls, exposing the cliff that's been there all along. The suns' glare makes it hard to see what's ahead. Who will dare to ride off into an unknown world? Who will remain behind?