The title plays on an ambiguity, or rather hides a clue. In Greek, the command "eat" (fรกe) rings out like an order to feed oneself, but also like the gentle words you offer a loved one so they'll take care of themselves. Efthimios Moschopoulos draws on his childhood memories tied to food: gathering salt from the rocks, picking olives, making tomato paste, planting, braiding onions, walking the same paths each day to feed and water the sheep. As though setting a festive table, he builds a rustic confessional where the sweetness and the harshness of country life mingle โ the loneliness, the struggle to own his queer identity among his own people as a teenager, the need to express himself and the awakening of desire.
On the altar of dance, the performer's body gives itself and tells its story with great tenderness. Charismatic, he becomes by turns animal, plant, stone, a primitive or chimerical creature โ a faun lost in his daydreams. Blending an inhabited solo with the gestures of a visual artist, this banquet of memory proves sensual and thoughtful, poetic and deeply moving.