"Sixty-eight years old and sick." Biographical synthesis of a defeated and tired actor who, after more than four decades of stage, scenes, mismatches and disappointments, looks back and can see nothing but a wasted life in the service of the leisure of strangers. The acute awareness of the greatness of theater, of its strength, vigor, indispensability and glory, is opposed, in this performance, to the disappointed acceptance of the immense sacrifices that many of its most fervent practitioners are forced to make, fearless dreamers who, in return for their militancy, are rewarded with oblivion. Starting from one of Anton Chekhov's most emblematic one-act plays, "The Swan Song," we travel in the drunken, delirious lyricism of an old, worn-out, bitter, and lonely comedian, a man whose sick imagination makes him relive the great career he did not have. Between invisible companions, sporadic quotes, distorted memories, and unconscionable impulses, a lone man, in a darkened theater, bottle in hand, unleashes himself in words to postpone, a little longer, the inevitable coming down of the curtain.