
An old Gothic theater appeared without warning — without posters, without calling, as if it had come out of the shadows, from a stone in a forgotten alley. The performances were born as obsessions, and the performances were peeled to the creeps when the actors looked straight into the soul with their unflashing eyes.


The rumors of him spread quickly. The performances were incredibly alive, even frighteningly real. Actors have always been new. Strange faces, new tones, and non-earth makeup.

Each of these was filled with many masks by which the actors transmitted a whole series of emotions so that the viewer could get involved in the play.
Every face was unique, each one had its own secret. It wasn’t just a face, it was a whole story written in a dressing room that determined the future role.
These masks were more alive than the theater itself, people who lost their identity, who became part of the play and will now remain in these walls forever.
Wouldn’t you like to be part of the show? Go to a scene where the light is too bright, the shadows too alive, and show your whole set of emotions?
When you wake up in a dark room, tied to a chair from the audience hall, with a deafening headache, you find yourself trapped in a trap surrounded by masks with the faces of disappeared viewers…
But a few minutes ago, you were sitting on the same chair in the gym, then performing on the stage, and then…
The emotions of the dead are left here, sealed in sausages and sewn on masks hidden behind curtains. The audience didn’t know. They never knew what was happening on stage wasn’t just an acting game.
The theater, once a home for great performances, has now become a trap for everyone who has participated in the play.