What is this smug, camp dust apparition that only speaks in verse and keeps interrupting? Is escapism really a sustainable way of coping? Why is the problematic dust figure so damn alluring? Memoir in a fantasy vehicle, Theoretica is a collection of notes on the experience of untangling half-addressed trauma. But the clock is ticking, so we’re gonna do it under the tremendous pressure created by the sense that one is stagnating. Fun!