What happens when the will abdicates and the body lets itself be guided by movement?

What happens when it indulges in the pleasure of being lost in the vastness and emptiness of space?Looking for the right place for the body, a body whose bones, clinking like glass, are the only thing that remains.

“The genius comes from Francesca Foscarini. We start to know this Italian dancer who had participated in the Folks marathoner at the Rencontres Chorégraphiques de Seine Saint Denis. We find her alone, this time also choreographer. She arrives dressed in gray, hands as screwed to the pockets. She tries to get them out, finally gets there. His body twists, in the postures that imposes a circulation on four legs. She knocks her knees, lets her arms speak. Her hair is hiding her, dancing for her. What did she have to hide that girl who looks so bad? Her solo Cantado sulle ossa is a must, a lightning punch, a marvel”.
Amelie Blaustein Niddam, Toutelaculture