Unfortunately, many words about love are like this. From Greek mythology to contemporary cinema and music, our cultural references tend to associate desire, passion, or love with a long chain of humiliation, revenge, and death. The words of love are also just as dark. Words of love that Núria Güell brought to the TNC in April 2024 and which can now be seen at the Tecla Sala in video format. Nine stories that start from the notions of love that the artist has previously sought in prisons: romantic love (from victim to executioner), love of war or weapons, love of God, of freedom, of social revolution, of one's homeland, of one's people and of one's father. Nine stories written and read without filters or censorship by their protagonists, seven of whom have been sentenced to between 4 and 2,111 years in prison for gender violence, belonging to a terrorist or anti-fascist organization, possession of weapons and explosives, armed robbery, moral attack, homicide. Two exceptions are the survivor of an abusive relationship and the sniper, who has been paid and decorated. Güell accompanies him with a series of songs that, in the name of love, speak of madness, addiction, possession and annulment... Remember what "Loves that kill never die"?

Does the patriarchal context nullify or condition women's decision-making capacity? If so, how and why? Is this incapacity – if we accept it – inherent in all women, or are there differences? Where can we begin to set limits? How has fiction contributed to distorting the idea of consent? In this choral piece, six commentators explore the (im)possibility or difficulty of women saying no and the open cracks through which we can operate to reverse this inequality.

For ten years, the Fabra i Coats complex has had a nursery, two schools and a high school, with a total of 1,300 students who have had to deal with the noise of the construction work that is still going on. I worked there for four years. I also lived as a child opposite a high school and I know that it can be nerve-racking. But nothing compares to the flat I am in now: three dogs, a TV playing at full speed until late at night, a newborn baby and fans of experimental music. On some summer nights I have been tempted to go and beg them to turn down the music. And I could do it. What I cannot ask them is to change the record. Coexistence is about this, about time slots. Not about tastes. Because who says that what they hear is noise?