A year later (May 2025), the third theatre laboratory took place in Berlin focused on consolidating material for the first piece titled "The Line" and composing music for it.

THE LINE is a ritual of dismantling—part dream, part diagnosis, part exorcism—a ritual for all who’ve outgrown their masks.


It asks what happens when a society builds its own prison, calls it progress, and then forgets it has the keys. The characters live in a perpetual paradox: they are both the guards and the prisoners, both the rebels and the enforcers. They are spiritual seekers commodifying their own enlightenment, intellectuals analyzing their pain until it dissolves into theory. They are humans trying to feel while numbed by an endless feed of content; a quiet “forest of faces” listening and testing what we can still say out loud.


It follows the fine line between who we are and who we pretend to be; between reality and the dream we keep chasing; between seeking growth and becoming a machine that never stops. Through movement, objects, soundscape, live vocals, and immersive projections, the performers draw lines and erase them, over and over — testing what happens when we step too far, or not far enough. The stage becomes a life stage, or a lucid dream — a mirror for our daily lives where absurdity and tenderness live side by side. We all have a line — between trying too hard and giving up, between holding it together and falling apart.

THE LINE is a playful performance and a poetic piece about that invisible liminal space where things change shape — where we take our masks off, and try to feel our way toward something real: connection, wholeness, a sense of belonging; about living in that space and daring to see it clearly. In a world where people wear metaphorical masks just to get through the day, THE LINE dives into a heartfelt exploration of how we navigate the world that expects us to be perfect when really, we’re all just trying to figure it out. Characters rebel in the smallest ways, like finding profound joy in a piece of cake (because sometimes, cake is the answer), all the while, fumbling through the messiness of human connection, trying to break out of their invisible boxes.