“One day I’ll become what I want
One day I’ll become a bird
that plucks my being from nothingness.
As my wings burn I approach the truth
and rise from the ashes
I am the dialogue of dreamers”
— Mahmoud Darwish
The world is afraid of counting: the number of deaths in a genocide, the single-digit ages of shrouded children, the oppressive historical span of occupation, the enormity of counting on fingers when one has lost all around them. We let our third anniversary pass unmarked, for the anxiety of what accompanies commemoration and marking of the passage of a cruel time. We aren’t excited about the new year either. It is perhaps just a rickety bridge between now and the end: the end of dialogue and the extermination of dreams. We deeply mourn the world around us.
Long live resistance!