Do fish sleep?

Jette has just turned ten. Her dad says that’s called double digits. There are people who even reach triple digits. One hundred years. And even more! Jette's brother Emil has only turned six. That’s just single digits. Emil was her little brother. He was sick his whole life. A year ago, he passed away. Sometimes Jette goes to the cemetery and remembers Emil, his laughter, his dreams, and how they painted his coffin in bright colors at the funeral. She wonders: "Why do people have to die? What comes after death? Is Emil better off now?" She has asked her father all these questions too. But he doesn’t have answers to many of them either. Jette has long noticed that. When they built a dam together during a vacation in Denmark, she asked if the fish behind the small dam don’t have to go home to sleep? Do fish even sleep? Her father didn’t know. Nor did he know if slow-worms sneeze. The dark clouds that spread over Jette after her brother's death are now, a year later, slowly getting brighter. Will they one day become completely white? No idea! But maybe they don’t have to. Death is often a theme in children's theater: "But rarely as sensitively handled as Jens Raschke manages," praises Paul Maar. Raschke has written a non-dogmatic, sometimes very cheerful, and sometimes also sad one-person play about one of the last taboo topics of our time. A piece about dealing with the small, big, and final questions of life.