Orlando is a promising young man, a counsellor to the first of England’s famed queens, Elizabeth I. Way back in the Sixteenth century he begins his infinite journey; indeed, infinite being, at this point, the main cause for debate. Seasons fly past in a whirlwind of balls, dances and banquets without Orlando ever getting older, without time ever chipping away at his incredible beauty or his overwhelming charm. The reigns of queens and kings come and go; after Elizabeth, James arrives and winter comes fast after winter, yet nothing changes in the looks of the young Orlando.

Until, one day, skating upon a frozen River Thames, Love upsets all of the cards in the destiny awaiting Orlando. It is the gaze of Sasha, an enchanting princess who has just arrived from the frozen lands of Russia, which enraptures his unready heart. He has never, until this day, questioned his very existence yet, at this very moment, he understands what it is that he has been seeking: to love, always and only to love. Times passes joyfully by and the two lovers long for mighty ships upon which they will flee towards new horizons and new destinies. These are the new Orlando’s thoughts; these are his desires. However, these were not her wishes since she was more interested than he was in merely escaping.

At midnight, her boat sets sail alone whilst Orlando, abandoned and run through with sadness, roams about with his trusty steed. No longer the knight of a dame or a queen, Orlando’s shattered heart begs for adventure in order to soothe his love pains. He becomes an ambassador and is sent to Turkey. Here, he puffs out his clothes, his head wrapped in multi-coloured turbans in which he passes through imperial rooms, sipping Eastern teas and, still with panting heart, he favours carnal passion over spiritual accord.

However, he was not born for this – bad habits, women and wars do not suit Orlando’s pure soul; his spirit cannot bear it all and his body abandons him. Hidden behind the heavy curtains of a four-poster bed, he falls asleep. And he sleeps. For days and days on end he sleeps. His life might be over if, indeed, this is the fate reserved for Orlando. Time that destroys and devours yet does not undermine his eternal figure but transforms it completely: a woman, not a man, arises after such a long rest. Dressed in more suitable clothes, Orlando takes flight; where for and with whom is of little importance since it is the moment to become acquainted with him/herself, his/her new self. This is the second challenge of the young Orlando who retraces her steps and goes back to her origins. She sells the last pearl of her masculine past and purchases a new journey, this time a journey home. Home to London.

Orlando begins to welcome her change. She learns about seduction and appreciates flattery. Without hesitation, her loyal servants recognise her at the very first glance – man or woman as she or he may be – as their Orlando, today Lady Orlando. However, the moment soon comes when she has to seek acceptance by the Eighteenth century and by its laws. Women cannot possess a fortune since it is a man who must possess it for them. Orlando, however, loses no courage. Indeed, she enjoys being acquainted with her new self.

What good fortune, she thinks, two centuries as a man and, now, a bright future in front of me as a woman. And, thus, Orlando reflects. And, in the meantime, writes. Indeed, from the very first day of our story, she/he writes. A nobleman is ill-suited to poetry but to a wealthy woman it is wholeheartedly forbidden. A poem in verse, entitled “The Oak Tree”, accompanies her upon each and every adventure and it is through this poem that Orlando strives to understand herself over the expanse of three centuries. She has not yet been able to do it but so stubbornly does she persevere. Her manuscript is all that she/he desires to keep within her heart; hidden beneath the heaviest of clothes, upon her chest.

One day, looking out from the window, she recalls Nature: what is her true nature, she wonders. Alone and confused she ventures into the wooded estate, invoking love or death, perhaps; something, at least. Her crinoline dress gets caught in the briers and Orlando falls into the arms of Nature, listening to the murmur of the meadows, inhaling the scent of the sky and begging for the end. Fate, however, offers a new beginning. The captain, Lord Bonthrop Shelmerdine, catches her within his arms, he looks after her with pearls of love and, when the Mistral, the north-west wind, blows he rushes her into the wedding chapel to exchange oaths with her before he leaves. The Lord has to set sail and Orlando is the wife of a husband far, far away.

1928 comes soon and Orlando, beneath her beloved oak tree, falls asleep whilst turning the pages of its infinite adventures: the life of the Court, the Thames and its frozen heart, the multi-coloured turbans, that precious pearl, the fortune that has been granted at last and the love longed for, for so long.

And last of all, she/he dreams of his/her manuscript, ever and throughout his/her true companion.

Writing, the beguiler of time, has made Orlando both a man and a woman;

immortal and eternal.