Anna and Rebecca, two best friends, are chatting alone on a balcony somewhere in Athens, surrounded by the sounds of August, a deck of cards, sweet walnut candy, plenty of wine, and the constant anticipation of the arrival of a man—their destiny, Destiny.

Two women struggling to love each other without knowing how. Two friends who stage their lives around a man from the past. Like children playing with their dolls and making them do everything they’ve ever dreamed of experiencing. A man who wears linen. Like the love they long to experience—and clumsily seek in men with “polyester” feelings, who travel from the start on a round-trip ticket. And those are their temporary stops, their parentheses, while they’d like them to be their harbor, their exclamation points.

A comedy of misunderstandings, deeply existential. A deck of cards that opens and reopens. Persistently, fanatically, agonizingly. Always keeping its decisive card hidden.

Thirteen years after its last performance at the Art Theater’s Underground, Akis Dimou’s “Destiny” returns to remind us that sometimes failing to find the ideal can lead you to take the leap toward the life you desire.