Skip to main content

Truth is not to be found in facts because facts took place in the past. And for each fact there's a counter-fact. Truth can only lie in the future. The only truth is a cri, or belief, a belief in a better future, eliminating crime and anti-social behavior and aiming at the improvement of the human race and by voting for those political candidates who do have these goals in a world where power shifts and hidden truths are revealed, all set against the backdrop of a political event, a collective struggle, a shared burden that binds individuals to the larger forces at play during the intensity of the moment, the pressure of choice, and the weight of expectation. The tension between intimacy and public spectacle evoke a sense of movement and connection and hints at the unpredictable nature of both love and politics, a moment of reckoning, where personal and political paths converge.


 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

"My parents, brother, and I left Iran in 1980, shortly after the revolution. After a brief stay in Italy, we packed all our belongings once again and headed west to the exotic and the unknown: Vancouver. We had recently been accepted as landed immigrants, meaning Canada graciously opened its doors and we gratefully accepted; we arrived at Vancouver International Airport on my 10th birthday, three suitcases and one sewing machine in tow. After respectful but intense questioning at immigration, we were dropped off at a hotel on Robson Street, which was then still a couple years shy of becoming the fashionable tourist hub it is today. We were jetlagged, culture shocked, and hungry, so that first night, my father and brother courageously ventured out into the wild in search of provisions. I fell asleep before they returned. The next morning, I woke up at 5 a.m. and ravenously feasted on a cold Quarter Pounder with cheese and limp French fries that had been left by my beds...
One day I took the minibus back from school. It was completely packed yet I somehow managed to squeeze myself in. I knew sooner or later some people would get off and per the unwritten rule of busses and minibuses everyone would gradually move towards the end of the bus and thus save me from getting crushed against the door. We had only travelled a short distance when the minibus stopped to let some passengers off. Another passenger and I stepped down to allow them to pass and as we stood there the passenger suddenly exclaimed, “What happened to my wallet? Did someone just steal it?” I wasn’t sure if he was serious or just making a not-so-comical scene about not identifying which pocket his wallet was in, however, it soon became apparent that his wallet was indeed missing. Initially I briefly considered the possibility that he might have suspected me as the pickpocket and thus directed the earlier conversation towards me. Once we were back on the bus though he repeated his commen...
Has anyone ever danced on the ceiling?