Playing a violin bow across the spokes of a bicycle wheel ... a ghostly face silently screaming ... the squatter heart can be unheard but not be silenced ... these were not words to a poem but the notes I took while I watched this Japanese Butoh-inspired performance by Ottawa dramatist Annie Lefebrve. There is little narrative save a telling of a war between a Japanese sun goddess and a storm god; the rest is a sublime poetry. With some spare everyday props like a bike wheel, an umbrella, and a coil of red wire stripped down to their basic frames, and a Butoh performer slinking like a ghost across the stage, Lefebrve delivers little moments of transcendence caught between the busy seconds of our lives. I cannot tell you what the play is exactly about or what you will feel during or after it. All I know is that for me, it was like regressing back to childhood, and the blue-shadowed lighting and rhythmic voice of Lefebrve lulled me like an infant to a lullaby. Subsequently, I'm embarrassed to say say, I nodded off. I don't think Lefebrve would mind but just in case, I'm giving out five stars out of five as a bargaining chip and declare this play the must-see of the Fringe.

Five out of five stars.