Operating on a high wire between fastidious design and the illusion of spontaneous behavior, Michelson's pieces tease you with the tension between the two. One curtain opens on a blank wall, another on the caged window. Don't think that isn't somehow important. "Fucking glaube nicht," says Michelson at one point, shadowing an earlier remark by Lutz. What's not to be believed? A whispered tale? A whole way of life? This dance? Whatever it is, I believe it, whether I understand it or not.