“Now and then I suffer homesickness: I just cannot say what for…” — Mascha Kaléko
The Curonian Spit? Sylt? Venice? Or simply for the theatre around the corner? Eight people sit in front of their screens, spatially separated from each other, and yet go on a journey together – in their minds. One person’s burning questions about his grandmother’s odyssey after the Second World War awaken wistful memories of his own flight from Lithuania in the other. The dense crowd in front of the gigantic displays in the Venetian restaurant is pure la dolce vita, but hardly imaginable in times of social distancing.
The weightless drifting in the sea off Sylt is like floating in space after a long car journey. And the great-grandson takes his great-grandfather on a trip to the theatre, where he dances for him in a girl’s nightgown.
“Thank you for thinking of me!” says the great-grandfather.
Even if we have to keep our distance, there’s one thing we can’t do without: thinking of each other.