So why don't the sisters simply pack their bags and go to the city? Why didn't Hamlet kill his murdering uncle? Why do so many of us fill our lives with wistful thoughts of things we want to do and places where we might be happy? The ThreeSisters is as woolly and messy as life itself. Like us, the characters search for meaning and find cliche. Like us, they focus on the trivial and mundane, attempting to ignore the gathering shadows at the window. But there's something that we love in their muddled humanity, and the glimpses they give us every now and then into their self-indulgent and tormented hearts.