Garden Eden by Veronika Merklein and Mika A. Sattler is a queer fat retelling of one of the oldest myths in human history. Few acts of eating—if any—have had more profound consequences than that first bite of the forbidden fruit. In this performance, Garden of Eden becomes a stage for desire, control, and repetition. The iconic narrative of Adam and Eve is reimagined as a toxic relationship between two lost souls, locked in an endless loop of temptation and consumption—forever circling Eden’s apples.

This is not a story of original sin, but of ongoing hunger: for validation, for dominance, for the taste of something once pure. The Fall of Man is not simply the awakening to good and evil; it is the birth of longing, the ache for a lost paradise we can no longer define but cannot forget.

What is harmony in a world that thrives on imbalance? What is security in an age that sells us danger wrapped in desire? Garden Eden does not promise answers. There is no redemption here, no moral, no exit. Instead, the silent performance lingers in limbo—viscerally, sensually, unsettlingly—pulling the viewer into a darkly poetic stasis where every bite is both pleasure and punishment.