If you: Ask Echo (our person) how this whole situation happened, she would most likely start to answer other questions, questions you didn't ask, first.

For your sake. And not because she wouldn't want to tell you what you thought you wanted to know. And not because of what she knows.

Probably because of what she thinks she might know. Or knew. Or could know.

All that said, know this → This isn't a place where conventional standards of material movement apply.

Conventional standards.

Who's convention? What standards?

A femme time-traveling relational warrior chasing a dream through curbside castaways, nightstands and magazine racks?

→ Yeah, different.

Amelie, Faye Wong in Chungking Express, even Ferris Bueller. Not unlike Dominique Pinon in Foutaises. Ripley! Yes, Ripley from Alien.

A proper weirdo, whose personal weird has recently fallen into it's time to shine. Less the spotlight, more a broken streetlight. Or just light in general.

Why limit eyeshadow to being used on the eyelids? Why wear two boots when you can wear one? Or three? No, we're not sure how.

An entire universe's molecules can't be forcibly re-arranged without some new combinations being formed.

Echo's predicaments each bring their own slightly skewed logic, internal or external, through dialogue or action or movement.

We'd need to work with talent that wants to go there.

Does she know this? Will she realize? Nobody's sure.

That's the point of Portals.

The person who inhabits Echo would probably:

Be comfortable with digging deep into character building and bringing her own perspective to the character on paper.

Be interested in exploring spaces through movement.

Present as a person whose lineage is not immediately identifiable.

Be down to improvise dialogue and to throw the plan away sixteen seconds into the first minute of the first day.

Please consider all photos attached just general vibes – and thank you.

Andrew