Running at just fifty minutes, this short piece is an intriguing and often beautiful visual poem, performed by one woman, some sculptural costumes, and a length of rope. Appearing, beautifully lit, in a simple larval mask (really just a large grey pebble shape with finger-poked holes for eyes) the isolated performer portrays a woman often bewildered by her existence, literally at the end of her tether – an existence embodied through melancholic movement that is at once profound, perplexing and utterly engaging.

Although the rope's significance is metaphorical rather than literal (like a Beckettian pile of sand), the piece's meaning remains elusive and inaccessible. An episodic collection of visual motifs, this performance cannot succeed in drawing its audience out of their spectatorial role and into the active realm of meaning-making. However, despite, or maybe because of, this – combined with the accomplished and delicate skill with which the fragile piece is performed – I left the theatre feeling immensely rewarded by this simple, brief and beautiful piece of visual theatre.