A lacuna is an unfilled space; a silence, a depression, a breath. It is the unoccupied cavity between the polarized worldview of dualistic thinking. It is a space where anything is possible: movement and language take on new meaning, static identities find new life, and traditions are ruptured into the inaugural, the contingent, and the unpredictable. What happens when this space is co-opted by two glitter-radical clown femmes?