Euripides stunned his audience with the final image of the murderess Medea, holding the bodies of her sons, taking flight in a dragon-born chariot. Though her violence haunts us, the myth is most potent because after such violence, she survives. Who is she, years later, without children, family, love, home? What does she remember? The Medea Monologue, written and performed by Laylage Courie, imagines this: Medea in final exile, absolutely, unutterably, alone. The work uses extended vocals, stylized physicality, poetic language (both classical and new), and the breathtaking expanse of an empty stage to distill the whole of this extraordinary story into the pure, dark eilixir of myth.