They live in a tenement-house which could be snuggled to the Montmartre hill, however in reality it is suspended between the sky and the ground, the heaven and the earth. They are artists, merry-makers. They love living, being. There is one more person dwelling in the dump. They have lived there for a hundred years, for the whole century. At this point Lady Death enters the scene. They struggle with existentialism and Marxism, fight against stupidity and desires – all the turmoil that constitutes the biography of the last century’s soul. They are not expressionists. At least not in a sense of following a certain style in art which got a passionate hold of Egon Schiele and others like him. They are the expressionists of spirit. They scream in their dreams, they cannot differentiate between dream and reality (…) If it was possible to meet up with the Guardian Angel and have a glass of wine with him, if it was possible to play chess with the Devil who is responsible for our temptations… After all we shall arrange our matters in such a way as to make the stars forecast our future, the future which is unsurpassable. For we are Leopards and wilderness, termed by us freedom, oozes from our eyes.” It is how the company introduce their production. Critics recognize “the protagonists who make the most of their lives, still they do it following their beliefs. They reach a boundary behind which only barrenness lurks.”