...Enough of us share logical, moral, and legal grounds (languages and words that, differently, we can re-assemble if we act fast enough) that deem criminal both fault through action and omission. But the distinction misses the mark of the time. My omissions are active, and especially if I have long known of the systematic, ingrained, revolting, and throughout the globe revolving, surrounding, self-sustaining, ever more scandalous, and that includes all variety of legitimized moral absurdities...
— From 'Grounds We Profess" by Kelsely Abaza
justice is absolute if it is an ideal to strive for
Artists, whilst going crazy, do not paint their ears, rather, they cut them off and paint them later.
Writing is not only for a page, a convention, a wall or a screen. Writing is lived experience on the streets as one reads one’s life and walks the step. The step along the path to implement.
We will not stop speaking. Not today.
I want to kiss you.

And next to eat you. And afterwards, only after this meal should we embrace and love and look into each others’ eyes, for a day. A whole day.
My problem: that the gaze that overcame me persists...You keep on moving towards me...I led myself afar...then I reached you; the tips of my hands are now at play, brushing your face calmly. With serenity. I only ever touch your face with serenity.
The declaration of faith compels you once more, as you were already born in a state of surrender (أستسلام). You had left the faith at the hands of your mother. This ‘bearing witness’ (شهادة), when repeated, compels you and entitles you...surrender entails debt and obligation.
The Coptic Christian communities in Egypt have serious and rightful grievances. What mends - temperance, faithfulness in reading, writing - action?
Egypt is not alone in its flirts with the hierarchies that divide it and its neighbours apart corrupting the lands. The problem is that the system, organization or regime (نظام) that the people cried en masse against - is largely intact and not to be fully dismantled and its attributes are shared amongst the world where corruption is endemic in and exhaustive of all nations.
And we all live Egyptian dreams: the ones that direct us upwards. Here is where the West misses memory: have you not built your obelisks after Egypt’s?
To emancipate disdain, reveal him. Let his bone pierce through his skin...he is blood and bone. There is beauty in frailty, the beauty of...truth...A...poet in the air, the dreamer; the king of his own world who only barely walks his terrain: he is suspended...somewhere afar, not with his self, not even a neighbour of his self. He is estranged from his body, and his fragmented mind, each dream apart from the rest.
To hope is to intercede through time and I cannot in my current capacity.

Kelsely Abaza speaking at the Auckland War Memorial Museum with Dr. Nigel Parsons, political scientist..

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