: Praising "Fear"
Why despise "fear"? Zealous writing that glorifies "heroism" and "sacrifices" and "blood" recharges a violent and masculine symbolic language. A text filled with heroism is a suffocating lung. Heroism kills the space of longing that exists between reader and writer; it is like two people speaking to each other with their mouths glued together. A language that speaks of killing happily and cheerfully will one day justify killing. It is necessary to both humanize emotions and take them from the infinite and immutable to the historical, in order to limit the reproduction of dictatorships.
The white sheet is a writer's confession chair, like the sea for a lover, like the priest for a guilty believer. Writing is like forgetting, a grand motherhood, so why pretend?
After a short and ungenerous experience in security cells, my "barrier of fear" is now doubled and thickened. Since then, I am now scared of opening doors, scared of whoever knocks on my door; every time I open a door, I live out a few nerve-wracking minutes. I fear state police and traffic police and soldiers and bearded men with shaved heads. I see prisons as places of humiliation, not stages of heroism. We need writings filled with defeat and evanescence.
Dara Abdallah + citi gabali http://www.asymptotejournal.com/art
Why despise "fear"? Zealous writing that glorifies "heroism" and "sacrifices" and "blood" recharges a violent and masculine symbolic language. A text filled with heroism is a suffocating lung. Heroism kills the space of longing that exists between reader and writer; it is like two people speaking to each other with their mouths glued together. A language that speaks of killing happily and cheerfully will one day justify killing. It is necessary to both humanize emotions and take them from the infinite and immutable to the historical, in order to limit the reproduction of dictatorships.
The white sheet is a writer's confession chair, like the sea for a lover, like the priest for a guilty believer. Writing is like forgetting, a grand motherhood, so why pretend?
After a short and ungenerous experience in security cells, my "barrier of fear" is now doubled and thickened. Since then, I am now scared of opening doors, scared of whoever knocks on my door; every time I open a door, I live out a few nerve-wracking minutes. I fear state police and traffic police and soldiers and bearded men with shaved heads. I see prisons as places of humiliation, not stages of heroism. We need writings filled with defeat and evanescence.
Dara Abdallah + citi gabali http://www.asymptotejournal.com/art