Tuesday, August 9
REMOVE You who remove me from my house are blind to your past which never leaves you, yet you're no mole to smell and sense what's being done to me now by you. Now, dilatory, attritional so that the past is climate change and not a massacre, so that the present never ends. But I'm closer to you than you are to yourself and this, my enemy friend, is the definition of distance. Oh don't be indignant, watch the video, I'll send you the link in which you cleanse me item after limb thrown into the street to march where my catastrophe in the present is still not the size of your past: is this the wall you throw your dice against? I'm speaking etymologically, I'm okay with the scales tipping your way, I'm not into that, I have a heart that rots, resists, and hopes, I have genes, like yours, that don't subscribe to the damage pyramid. You who remove me from my house have also evicted my parents and their parents from theirs. How is the view from my window? How does my salt taste? Shall I condemn myself a little for you to forgive yourself in my body? Oh how you love my body, my body, my house. (Fady Joudah)