If you like sweat, filth, chaos, and fags (no pun intended), this one’s for you.

The air is thick. The dishes are rotting. Ashtrays overflow. G hasn’t left his flat in three months, and time is collapsing in on itself. Stale beer, sleepless nights, the same song on repeat—grief festers, loops, and refuses to let go.

G R I E F C A S E is raw, relentless, and painfully human. A sweaty, suffocating descent into loss—told through physical theatre, contemporary choreography, and surreal storytelling. No tidy arcs. No resolution. Just the grotesque, absurd, and darkly funny rituals of survival.

Grief doesn’t fade. It warps, lingers, and demands to be carried. Welcome to the mess.