At first the body is nothing more than matter in the making, two polymorphous beings discover their own bodies and the space in which they find themselves. Then they are together, with a chair and a sofa ... fully dressed. Everything is concrete and real, fragments taken from life overlap each other. The absurdity of this failed encounter leaves a bitter taste... the starting point for this performance is the hermaphrodite in Plato's myth of 'The Feast'. It is a little as if this creature were divided in two and set on the stage, like a guinea pig in a laboratory, where its behaviour is studied. The same thing was done by the gods of Olympus: they cut the hermaphrodite in two and observed its convulsions. The myth tells that the hermaphrodite, once it had been divided, sought unceasingly for its lost half and that the nature of love results from this 'drama', from this division. This is an appealing and at the same time gruesome metaphor for love. Pas de Deux unfolds in a succession of scenes and empirically questions the body in relation to itself, to space and time, and to the other and the object. The absence of any code of social behaviour condemns these two individuals to a naive and instinctive floundering on their way towards some kind of wisdom, even when they experience situations which many of us find clearly recognisable.