Aimiko has never taken a road trip with their Mom. Sharon has never seen nor heard of any sort of mother-daughterchild road trip. And so, our brave pioneers take to the road for an absurdly funny, poetic, yet harrowing adventure, driving West, ten miles per hour above the speed limit until Aimiko’s radiator suddenly dies. This is their story. Kind of. And again. And again.

Makoto Nakashima:

My impression has often been that American plays tend to resemble television dramas, grounded in a realistic sense of time and place. This play, however, is remarkably free. It moves effortlessly across time and space. Its characters become birds, travel through different moments in history, and eventually confront the complex relationship between their names and their roots. What emerges is a profound meditation on how our lives are shaped by both the great currents of history, ethnicity, and nationhood, and the much smaller yet equally powerful stream of family. Caught between these forces, we make our way through life. This play captures that truth with extraordinary beauty and power.

Daria Miyeko Marinelli:

When I was in my 20s, my mother and I would end up in these loud-quiet hurt-hurting tangled disagreements. (I do not think I am alone in this experience.) And then, at some point - we’d realize we didn’t even want to be fighting. But we were both SO MAD. This play is about desiring and demanding to be seen by someone who knows you too well and doesn’t get you at all and would give their life for you. I’m grateful to be a decade away from those times and now getting along with my mother. Maturity is a wonderful thing. That said, this play is for those times in our relationship and for everyone currently in those times.