Ribaud’s set features planks of wood branded with lines of text from May Okada’s letters. They serve as, first, the train platform, then various tables, benches and walkways. The performers, constantly in motion, rearrange the planks and animate the activities described in the letters. May types her letters at a small typewriter stand amidst the comings and goings while we hear her lines in voiceover. Surprisingly chipper, the day-in-the-life nature of the letters could be that of a summer camper reporting home. They detail the lack of privacy and how the families adapt to concentration camp conditions—and are surprisingly devoid of anger. We are left to imagine outrage on their behalf. The suitcases and their contents are a centerpiece prop: a child pulls out colorful items of clothing to toss into the air; there is laundry hung out to dry; bedspreads serve as partitions between family groups. The muted colors of Yohena’s wardrobe mix with wood tones to evoke the sepia of old photographs such as those hung as banners from the theater rigging. Veteran company member Brandon “Private” Freeman (who performs in three of the four sampler works) plays the part of community elder in cardigan, slouchy hat and glasses. Beautifully rendered, for me the work ended too soon. I wondered if there could be more pure dance interludes that might elaborate on the original material. While certainly I can respect the artistic choice to honor the personal family experience, there seems more to explore between the lines.