Since he left them years ago, during a last violent clash with his father, not one word from him. The women wait, their lives on hold. The sisters, the mother, the grandmother. Suddenly, one evening at dusk, they see him coming up the hill. He collapses on the threshold without speaking. Now he lies in his bed, lovingly kept for him. Asleep? Dying? We never see him: is he really there, or is this a projection of the women's private hopes, fears, grievances, expectations? This enigmatic and profoundly beautiful ensemble piece, constructed like a sonata, shares another property of chamber music: it taps direct into the emotions. Speaking sometimes to the audience, sometimes to themselves, sometimes to each other, the women pry out - gently, savagely, and with shocks of earthy mocking humour - long-concealed thoughts, leaving us to ponder the ultimate nature of love and sacrifice, of truth itself.