Her name is Thalia or Adriana or Marigo, Eleni, Xenia, Panagiota… She is 90, or 15, 50, one, 30 years old. In some life, she wanted to become a mother, in another she did, and in a third, she neither wanted nor became one. She works hard. Every day. She works with herself, works for herself, works for others. She is a woman with a shell. She is a woman like an onion. A movement solo with speech. About the shell we create to endure and about the memory we inherit, which is recorded in our DNA. A solo of the female gender. A solo where gravity changes as and when Thalia decides.