Connections

Casixa opened her eyes. The atmosphere smelt woolly. Noise travelled around her in a thousand different directions and in varying tones and spices. She felt a sudden pang from her back and went to touch her wings – they were gone.

“Are you gonna’ stand there and stare all day then or what?” a voice came hurtling toward her with a bundle of material.

“Put this on and start serving customers.”

The human full of facelines and folds disappeared into the messy domain in front of her and Casixa held “this”.

“How?”

"Around the neck you, weirdo" and she gestured to the trunk that held the human brain cage.

Casixa tried tying it and it fell artistically around her now wingless body as she observed the new, unfamiliar world around her. This was no longer Angeleisite – this was Earth and she was on Oxford Road in the little cafe that she often watched, only this time she was there in the flesh. Being an angel here would be wonderful – if she could quieten down the mind-reading and blend in a little, this was the perfect place for her to finally help humanity.

Surveying her objects, she delicately hovered around a ripe, red-faced human and his brood of two. They held props in the same blue that they wore. As the little humans gently argued over who imitated whom and what strange shaped potato they enjoyed more (it seems smiles are the tastiest to ingest), Casixa noticed an almost identical tribe sat close by.

Both larger humans slapped their thighs and shook their shoulders at their attempts of humour – which were not met by impressed reactions. Through listening closely these unfunny sentences were known as ‘Dad Jokes’, and though she decided not to waste time on dentist appointments being best at 2:30, she enjoyed the resounding reactions.

The six matching meals were served as the same thoughts of love, anxiety and apprehension came in and out of both Dads’ minds. They thought about money, about safety and about goal defence.

The man in blue looked at the others and Casixa sought her opportunity. She approached him confidently.

“Please, tell the person about his hair cut!”

“What?!”

“Please, you were thinkin-” Casixa was cut off by the red man’s anger.

He stood up, his face instantly a dartboard of angry lines whilst the man in blue turned a flushed purple as they both glanced down at their opposing chest labels. She had only wanted to air the humans’ compliment and now she suffocated in angry thoughts, attempting to shrink into the walls. Casixa tightened her shoulder blades and begged for her wings to wrap around her and shoot to the skies but the shouting thoughts continued and hit her like aggravated dust particles to fresh air. She begged silently to Mother-Angel to take her back home. She had been warned about meddling in human affairs, but hadn’t expected this punishment.

With bafflement, Casixa continued her day assimilating human-ness. It was difficult.

She noticed strange things – what people thought and how they acted rarely correlated.

Their ‘small talk’ was repetitive and boring to everyone involved – yet they insisted on it all the same. The weather was a popular talking point, but natural materials were weird. People greeted each other with body strangles and mutual wrist shakes. Humans often slammed palms too which was apparently funny, though not funny at all when palms slammed faces. If they really liked each other, they thought of strange things and shared their own mouth utensils until they required breath. People acted furious about the seven different types of milk available, yet their thoughts had confirmed they could not tell the difference anyway. Humans enjoyed requesting receipts from their purchase only to scrunch it into their pocket where they would be disposed of without re-reading.

Casixa tried her efforts outside of the cafe too.

She encouraged compliments, helped untangle bag straps from hairstyles, gave people back their dropped apple cores and shiny plastic wrappers, yet it was clear that the unspoken rules of the human world were not as simple as she once thought.

Feeling deflated, Casixa caught a glimpse of the red troupe from the cafe earlier – their leader had a happier air about him as he marched towards a crowd of cheers and magic. She followed them close by, watching as flags of pride and solidarity melted into war and pain and fear. Her gaze panned to the other crowd – the Dad in blue from before was in his ground, identical feelings with his ‘enemy’ – just as before.

A neon belt parted the crowds further with plastic barriers and targets on their back from both sides. They ushered Casixa along as she watched the internal fires of the company continue to burn. The tantamount heartbeats rhythmically set the tone for her angelic footsteps as she stood aside. These beings of clay and mud with their nonsensical rules and their indecipherable internal software all had the same core driving them forward – yet they often chose not to see it. Would she ever make them see?

Casixa watched as someone in red buckled to their half-limbs and a sea of scarlet legs instantly lifted them back up. She smiled – the two sides were still separated but maybe that task was not for an angel to fix.

And off she went, her wings firmly attached and her window onto the human saga opened. She observed quietly from her ethereal wing chair. Flutters had passed by and the Earth realm continued to amaze Casixa and she often wandered about the people she met. One day, she watched on as an expert transport assassin pickpocketed a tourist – was she to intervene? Thankfully someone blocked the hand-to-bag move and another commuter came to his aid – little did they know that a few weeks ago, those two humans had been fighting… over football. (Well they eventually hit their palms together… so I think that’s a good sign…?)

Angel’s Bone is the Pulitzer Prize-winning opera-theatre work by composer Du Yun and librettist Royce Vavrek – performed by the English National Opera at Aviva Studios from 12 to 16 May 2026. Find out more here.