Five voices, bodies, mouths. They speak. Five times they start and five times they finish; and every time is the first time; and every time is the last time. They start in order to speak, and finish to never speak again. In-between, they talk as if they are given the floor for the last time. Every single word is uttered in definitive way; offered, never to return to the speaker. It is as if the speaker is aware – and, indeed, he is – that with every word he utters, his ability to talk disintegrates. This is the reason why every single word is spoken as if being the last one.

Four monologues; "Loss"/"Memory"/"Repentance"/"Art" and "Oblivion":

"This is my story. Battles, and then nothing. Cities, and then nothing. Nothing remains. Everything comes and goes [...] I’m only starting. Listen to me. I come from nowhere ".

No memory. Oblivion is the biggest possible opening, one that discards every safety valve; man speaks in the present tense for existential possibilities, putting a definite emphasis on the here and now. The body, a carrier of his history, liberates him from the shackles of the imposed thinking regarding the confirmation of his presence, leaving open the possibility of a new beginning. It is a monologue open to varying interpretations, but with a definite directive from the author: man starts speaking, and ends to never speak again.

The play has been translated into French, German and Portuguese.