Daytime. Piazzale Aldo Moro. A gigantic aeroplane is lying split in two on the top of a mound of earth in the centre. It is a Mercury that is 30 metres long with a 24 metres wingspan that we designed and built. A solidified lava flow is coming out of the hole to cover the earth. There are human figures, suitcases, airline seats, and trunks immersed in the lava. There are pieces of wreckage all over. This is the moment of drama. It is night and there is a passenger who survived the crash. The tragedy completes itself in him because he has stayed behind to become the witness to the terror. As if by random fluke. Hence he is someone who has been favoured by fate. He will pay back the illusion of good fortune that is nothing of the sort. Instead, it is this chosen man’s condemnation. The author of this text is trying to come to terms with his own fear of flying by means of this metaphor. This is a two-sided production – a daytime installation and a night-time performance. In daytime all the drama in the work is enclosed in one instant. What is evident here are the words of Shakespeare’s Macbeth: “Had I Lived an hour before this chance, / I had lived a blessed time”. This sums up all the power of the tragedy in that unforeseen instant that determined it. At night-time we rediscover the importance of putting things on stage. The installation becomes a stage for a narrative journey that completes itself.