



Wesley Enoch’s production of Yibiyung makes facing the stories of Australia’s past both confronting and joyful.

Rows of people stand before us. Some are swaying slightly while others slump, apparently asleep. They all share a dull, glazed demeanor. Some are alive and some are dead. But which is which?


Human conversations rarely flow smoothly. There are many interruptions. Confusion reigns over who is talking and who is listening.