This is not a show about death, or grief, or pain and suffering as a result of terminal illness - even though the whole space gives out the impression of a cheaply designed horror movie set with the lights on, so that the occasional invocations of irony show its grab- by tentacles, no romantic sublime, though, no depths and highs, no gargoyles or Mr. Dracula creeping from behind a mausoleum of the dearly departed Logan Roy - when the empire fell. This is not a show about aging, about drawings of wrinkles spread- ing over one’s face like the-last-of-us-style funghi, forming maps of long-forgotten desires, societal expectations, urges to be Gilgamesh, to conquer and divide and pass on to the future gener- ations whatever your delusion deems significant. This is not a show of beats and closeness and sweaty outsides of souls pulsating with chemically infused love somewhere over 150 bpm, even though their imprint in your grey matter is not going anywhere. This is not a show about anger - even though that little monster burns all around so painfully that walking on lava must be a joy in comparison. Life finds a way, they keep promising, but forgive me if I’m wrong, I don’t see any dinosaurs flexing their feathered limbs anywhere, do you? They also say that emotions are real and we all have them, that emotions are the inner carpeting of our consciousness, the foundation on which you place your wisdom, Ikea experiences and other annoyances for which you slowly accumulate money during your lifetime of capitalist self-slavery. Emotions were meant to be one of the few authentic things left after the seas swallowed Atlan- tis and the Garden of Eden got lost on your way to the nearest sex shop for new toys. But are they? Are emotions authentic? Do we feel them? As a species? Authentically? Or are we - as a species- emotionally shaped by the Logan Roys of this world, the Freuds, Gods and other father figures who tell us how and what to feel - with a clearly gendered dividing line in the middle of the Grand Emotional Manual? Are emotions only a product of the hetero-pa- triarchal industrialized nightmare we inhabit? Wait, is this a show about emotions? The Floor Is Lava is a game, and as such, it needs to talk of rules and ways of overcoming (or overruling, haha) them. They say gen- der norms, I say fuck you. They say, listen to your dad, and I say, here comes the sun, goodbye. You know what? I heard that all those strangers you talk to in the righteous high of excitement about astrology, are not your friends! Did you know that? Astrology bonding is not real, allegedly. This is a show about death; grief; pain, the pain of dying and watching someone die - literally or figuratively; suffering; aging, loss of bearings, loss of strength, loss of the skin firmness, and growing weird new habits; this is a show about vampires, hete- ro-patriarchy, capitalism, old mythologies, and their gods; about raving, closeness, a collectivity of one, two or hundreds; about the gender binary and ways to deconstruct it; about anger, coping mechanisms, alcoholism, substance use and abuse, therapy - ba- sically, ways of dealing with the shitshow called life. Everything and nothing. Take it or leave it. Just watch your steps. And yes, there are truly no dinosaurs in the show. (Jen Kratochvil)

Our inner world takes shape even before we are born. In the womb, we feel the amniotic fluid on our skin, hear muffled sounds, the flow of blood and digestion, and we move and turn with our mother’s movements. After birth, physical sensations define our relationship with ourselves and the surrounding environment. In the beginning, we experience hunger, satiety, wetness, and sleepiness. A cacophony of incomprehensible sounds and images pushes into our completely new nervous system. Our system of bodily sensations continues to provide us with the important feedback about our state, even after we gain consciousness and acquire language. Its constant buzzing informs us of changes in our internal organs and the muscles of the face, torso and limbs, signaling pain and comfort, as well as hunger or sexual arousal. Physical sensations are also influenced by what is happening around us. A familiar face or certain sounds - music, a siren - or a different temperature changes what we pay attention to, and without realizing it, influences our further thoughts and actions. We all play Floor Is Lava. The year 1980. She finally broke free from the conditions of the early Middle Ages. No running water. Mold. The chronic screams of her father. Underestimation. Bullying at home. Bullying at school.A safe space at the bottom of an old wooden closet. The scent of old clothes in a wardrobe no one ventured into. “I have to leave.” Those words echoed relentlessly in her mind. School and edu- cation became her sole chance for escape, a realization she had embraced from a very young age. Immediately after school, she managed to secure a bachelor apartment (a state-provided hous- ing for singles). It felt like an infinite stroke of luck. Finally, a taste of nightlife. New acquaintances, but nothing serious. My parents don’t like you. I have to say goodbye. Sometimes the stones she stepped on were still flowing and not fully hardened lava. First love. He speaks a different language. Coming from another country. The ups and downs. Occasionally reminding her of home. So addictive. So seductive. Everything is happening too fast. She had always wanted a child. She tried her best. During the day, she sold books at the newsagent’s stand in the winter, and she helped smuggle jeans and curtains on weekends.. Fear was a constant companion in her everyday struggle for survival. When she had to go to the maternity ward, she hailed a taxi. He stayed at the bar celebrating. “I feel your anger.” It’s intoxicating. “I love you.” (Denis Kozerawski)