She's Marion, and she's like all of us. With the tool the body, it brings us face to face with a collage of moments. Sometimes easy and sometimes difficult. Everything is fluid, but everything is imprinted on our body. Within 45 minutes, the images alternate. Marion Renard's body is sculpted on the stage of the theater “Flows” and allows us to be filled with our own experience with every movement. A dream. A fairy tale. The stress of being. A momentary need for evisceration. The performance “Transatlantic” is described as a post-feminist pop requiem. Personally, I find it difficult to distinguish labels and identities in this particular show (but also in general). I remained, throughout, confronted with what a body outside of mine was giving birth to in me. I let meanings and symbolisms escape me, like little white balls, or fall on me in a rage. The point that connected me most of all, however, was the dynamic depiction, through the technique of puppet theater, of the violence experienced by the female sex — both physical and psychological. I admired Marion Renard's ability to handle an empty jacket and turn it into a “nightmare” covered in gold, but also Christos Kaukis's directorial grasp of the way it was performed on stage. I was shocked by the raw truth of the moment. I felt two hands around my neck. Such performances are very difficult to “judge” or even capture subsequent “impressions” in a way that does not remain personal. Because it remains not only in the context of a subjective view of the spectacle, but also in all that is intrinsically stimulated. In the interpretations we choose to give to what we see. In all that invisibly surrounds us and threatens to drown us. If you “fall” on a November team job, dare to indulge in what comes next.