Horizons

A metaphysical tragicomedy by Jean-Pierre Martinez

In a no man’s land that resembles a kind of purgatory, three characters — Ben, Dom, and Max — stand before an inscrutable horizon, unable to grasp where they are or even who they are. Have they survived a plane crash, fallen into a coma, or are they drifting through space at the edge of a black hole? Through dialogues mixing absurdity, dark humour, and cosmic vertigo, they explore the limits of consciousness, language, and memory.

By turns funny and philosophical, their exchanges reveal what is most universal in the human condition: the search for meaning in the face of the mystery of existence. The horizon becomes a metaphor for life itself — a shifting boundary between the visible and the invisible, between reason and the unknown.

Ben embodies reason and the need to understand,
Dom stands for doubt and derision,
Max represents intuition and imagination.
Together, they form three facets of a single fractured consciousness confronted with its own dissolution.

As the play unfolds, their voices gradually blur — as though they were fragments of the same mind, standing at the threshold of nothingness.
Between science and metaphysics, absurdist theatre and cosmic poetry, Horizons is a tragicomic meditation on memory, death, and the possibility of being reborn — somewhere, on the far side of the horizon.

Both limpid and dizzying, Horizons belongs to the tradition of metaphysical absurdism, while remaining unmistakably contemporary. Here, reflection is not merely centred on the emptiness of existence but also on science as a metaphor for the unknown.