The metaphor used by Elsa for the way she feels and behaves is that of an octopus. It is in her, indeed it is her brain, but it is also an extension of herself, with a life of its own. As it flows around and beyond her, its tentacles get wrapped up in stuff beyond her control. And though she wants to build relationships with other people, the mental and physical pain she feels from stressful situations, from too much sensory input, or from changes in her environment, is sometimes overwhelming.

Set and lighting are used in a highly creative way to suggest the agitation of Elsa’s inner world. Disturbed sea waters projected onto the set mirror her state of mind, whilst bands of patterned light moving jaggedly across the set seem to cry out her mental anguish.

Despite the serious subject, there is much room for humour in this piece. Elsa goes through the stages of her life in much the same way as everyone else, except that for her, the octopus is always in tow. But those she comes into contact with see only the odd behaviours.

The rocking back and forth, the habits that can read as obsessions, the unguarded language that says just what she thinks. And so, when she falls for another girl in school, and tells her she smells of fish and chicken nuggets, offence is taken and Elsa is left wondering what she has done wrong.

The queue of professionals she encounters display little more understanding of her than her peers. Her teachers’ main concern is to rid the classroom of an unruly child, whereas her GP, with plenty of other patients to see, reaches for the prescription pad. Her encounter with a therapist involves mood music, platitudes and a declaration that Elsa is refusing to engage with therapeutic treatment.

Yet, despite all the odds, Elsa prevails. When she finally receives a diagnosis, she realises she is not ill but, rather, that her brain simply works in a different way from that of many others. Equipped with this, she can start to accept herself for who she is and begin to understand that she is just as valuable and as beautiful as others.

Heartwarming and insightful, Tiny Fragments of Beautiful Light reaches out in a way that academic articles do not. Importantly, it connects with its audience emotionally and experientially.

Tiny Fragments of Beautiful Light was performed by Hannah Genesius, Yemisi Oyinloye and Zoe Lambert. It was written by Allison Davies and directed by Karen Traynor. Design was by Verity Quinn. Projection and lighting design were by Simon Cole.

The show has been designed with the access needs of neurodiverse audiences in mind. Headphones are provided so that audience members can control what and how they hear. A moment map is also provided to make sure there are no unexpected surprises, including a list of the more intense moments and the times at which they happen.

Tiny Fragments of Beautiful Light is on at the Rep until 6th March. It has an age guidance of 12+. For further information visit birmingham-rep.co.uk.