In our little island

Fears over our little island and a British man around the age of my father, worried of where our societies go after the UK referendum, astonished me with his agony, when I told him that we did not reveal the ghosts with the other lovers of the Shakespearean poetry.

Austerity is an easy word when there is a meal at your table, poverty is a hard word when there is no fridge in your house, hope rise when there is someone to speak to, fear flourishes when you close the door to your neighbours, change does happen when you know your enemy within, change will not happen when you see enemies everywhere.

A young woman showed me the road to some enlightenment, the one from below, and reminded me what we are going to miss in ‘our’ little island, ‘our’ next action that will remain next without action; this is why I stand by the young, because they know better than anyone else what past, present and future mean in one historical moment.

I feel at this changing time that we move from the politics of recognitions to the politics of borders, there is no time to remain silent until the dust of the war settles, we can listen to the words of refugees, speak to the man or a woman next to us, turn off our screens and computers not to allow the fear to declare its victory.

12 July 2016, Barbican Centre

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