« To silence history is to distort the memory of those who liberated us. To falsify it is to commit the most abominable rape of the conscience and dignity of a people.» Bihmane Belattaf
Sometimes words fail to express a feeling and we choke from not being able to talk about it. I still wonder about the world that is dying without wishing for its end. I wonder about us men who seek well-being, whether spiritual or material, a permanent quest that will perhaps never tire. I wonder about the future of the world that carries and supports us. I wonder how long it will be able to take our waste. Earth, sea, air, space, everything goes there. And, from the confines of the universe, the vestiges of our prehistory return to us. What will become of our actions for the prehistory of tomorrow? I cannot paint at this moment of thought, not that I do not have ideas, but they are so sad and I try in vain to find that breath that gives me hope in this world.
I would so much like to paint the happiness in the fields and the joy of living of our youth, but everywhere I go, there is desolation and sadness, the struggle for an existence, even subsistence. The joy of young people is celebration in abuse and sometimes debauchery, yet there are some who fight and build things, but we leave them aside, preferring to talk about those who destroy, break, steal and rape, or who traffic in all kinds of things. Sex, symbolism and money, such are the images we offer them on our airwaves. Violence, heartbreak, triviality, pettiness, deception and triviality are served to them in our television series where they acquire the panoply of the perfect hypocrite and the perfect crook. The audience ! This is the watchword of the media, and for young people everything else seems, and is, boring in their eyes. Religion exasperates them, Benedict XVI and his contradictions
Core values? Let’s talk about them!
Single-parent families, benefits of all kinds, single but accompanied women, abandoned children, illiterate people. I have seen things working on the street and in contact with disadvantaged or struggling populations. Every day, one more tramp, ho! My apologies, a homeless person, just like the visually impaired, the hearing impaired, and the cleaning technicians. So much hypocrisy that kills kindness and will burst one day. So much suffering, violence, lack of respect. I feel bad for my future, the one we are building together separately. Despite everything, I have faith in the spirit of Humanity.
We need a revolution, not in anarchy or explosive revolt, but in the souls of the people, in awareness and solidarity. A general mobilization against the indifference of men toward themselves. To revolt, not against our politicians, but against ourselves who allow our existence to be dictated by laws and decrees. Let us abuse our humanity a little and take it upon ourselves to ensure that tomorrow reflects a common will.Utopia has not always been a useless dream, because without certain utopians, we would not be here today, traveling from the bottom of the oceans to the ends of the universe. Often, we have exploited the dream of others to satisfy a destructive thirst for power that we justify with various subterfuges. I am a utopian in believing that one day everything will be for the best in the best of all possible worlds that we would have taken the time to save from our madness. I will remain a utopian, forever, in fighting alongside those who can no longer, or not. I will remain a utopian for each day, believing that tomorrow humanity will prevail over individuality. I feel lost in this world, I feel dragged down by the system, but I remain standing with my setbacks and my hopes, walking with my head held high in the face of adversity and the inevitability of the sun rising, with or without the crowing of the rooster, and setting to give way to the light of the night that sets the rhythm of the senses. We are obliged to live while waiting for death, so let us live for tomorrow, thinking every day of the stone we laid yesterday.