A peal of bitter laughter at Greek summer or rather a fictional ethnography of Greece, based on stories of everyday people who abide by their petty rituals. Within a scorching day. Within a scorching summer.

During a scorching summer day cluttered with crummy cottages, warm seas and naked bodies, a breathing museum of anti-heroes sit carefully around the table of the holy Greek family, among doilies, television sets, fruit pits, running juices, and everything from which we must avert our eyes. They fool around watching videos from the 1990s, as things went south after that.

They pray to their gods, they swim and they preach, they sell and sell themselves at affordable prices. They offer experiences and they enjoy, enjoy, endlessly enjoy. They await the big final score and if they never make it, “remember where we started” always saves the game. Alas. In their summer “paradise,” what they really want is for someone to understand and care for them, to touch and be touched.

Small stories of everyday people within an urgently shrinking framework. As they cling to their rituals. As their communication falls apart. A performance about lazing beneath the scorching Mediterranean sun. Until the grand moment, or the grand finale.