This work originates from a reflection on the tragic 2016 events at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando, Florida.
Pulse is the name of that place, but it is also heartbeat, breathlessness, rhythm — the rhythm of people dancing, a vital pulse, a gunshot. It evokes strength, energy, life interrupted.
On stage, a question unfolds: what does it mean to be a community today? Individual identity is tested in a space outside the ordinary, a place where bodies search for contact yet never quite reach it, where groups form and dissolve, where one can be included or remain alone at the edge. It is a study of belonging: can a community stand firm before the tremors of change, or will it retreat into isolation, creating secret, inaccessible refuges? Dance — the body speaking without words — becomes a way to tell of gender, of fear, of the fragile courage of being together. This is not simply a work about gender issues, but about the perception of the Other, starting from a historical scar.
Pulse is an attempt at union that falters — a wound in a collective body that must learn, on stage, to pulse again, to move, to grow in the shadow of a society in crisis.
