In twelve weeks, please take a piece of me in your pocket And carry me around wherever you go. I want to be a part of every new experience and sensation. I want to see all the new places you will see I want to meet all the new people you will meet I want to smell all the new smells you will encounter. Take a piece of me with you before you go, And let the rest remaining behind perish for a year A whole year, before you come back and revive it. Let that piece breathe the air you will breathe And let it hear every sound and silence you will stumble upon. Oh please, I beg of you, take a piece of me with you. Take it and keep it close to your heart. To keep you company if you ever get lonely. Take a piece of me to make you feel safe whenever you are anxious. Take a piece of me, to melt in your chest and always keep you warm. Take a piece of me to remind you of how much I love you, and therefore, How much of a wonderful human being you are. Take a piece of me, to feel every laughter of yours explode inside my chest back home. Take a piece of me to feel every tear run down your cheek, For me to know when to contact you to check if you’re okay. Take a piece of me, and hold it tight in your hand As if you were afraid to let it go. Take a piece of me, and when you come back in a year, Give it back to me And enrich me with all your new and mesmerizing memories. Take a piece of me And fill it up with all the love and care you can every time you think of me And give it back to me Give it back To restore Happiness and peace Within me.
Image: “Gorgeous autochrome girl in bonnet, with dog” by whatsthatpicture. Source
Author: Leah Didisheim
[Content Warning: Missing person, Death]
“Has she come home yet? … No? … Where is she? … What do you mean you don’t know? How can you not know? … I swear sometimes you’re as useless as Myriam. … Well of course you should know! Do you even care that she’s gone? … Are you even searching for her, poor soul? For all we know, she could be in severe danger. Breaks my heart to think of her smile. She did have a beautiful smile, didn’t she? … What do you mean you haven’t thought of her smile? … Why aren’t you more stressed out? … I know it’s not the first time … But I’m telling you I can feel something is different this time around … Yeah, well, I’ll be sorry when you’ll prove me wrong! … Oh, but how I miss her … What do you mean I’m speaking as if she’s dead already? What else am I supposed to do? … Well believe what you will. I’ll keep on searching. I won’t stop worrying until she’s home. … Poor Lula… alone in the cold. … No she’s not just another teenager crossing her parents. That’s just not her. … Well, I’ve never known her like that… and God, Frank, even if she was, she’s just fourteen… Are we not supposed to love our children unconditionally? … Yeah, yeah, you say that, but where’s your love when it requires you to take action huh? … Look, I have to go. I can’t have the same argument again. Just please do something. … Yeah, I know you’re worried. You know how I get sometimes. I’ll call you tomorrow, ok? Or sooner if I hear anything.”
She touched her cheeks, surprised to find them wet with tears. She hadn’t realised she had been crying. It must have been the tenth time she was listening to this conversation she had had with her brother on the phone. Yes, she had been the one laying her worries on the table. And yet she had never really trusted her own words. She had always thought Lula would call her, reassure her. Oh, how she could almost hear the tiny voice say “don’t worry, mummy, I’m safe. I’ll be home soon. Love you.” Maybe, in retrospect, Frank was the one being more realistic. It wasn’t that he was not worried, but maybe more that he had accepted the wicked truth. She hadn’t of course. Maybe she still didn’t. The proof was right there; she was still listening to this old phone conversation, always resenting herself for the way she had talked to her brother that day. But that conversation wasn’t going to change anything. She knew that. Of course, she knew that. And yet, today was no exception. She had listened to the recording of that phone call again with the strong intention of it being the last time. She was going to delete it. She really was. But of course, this time again, she had locked her phone, the recording still there safe and sound. “Next time”, she thought. But of course, we all knew she wouldn’t. It had been three years already. And she was not any closer to deleting that phone call from her phone than she was to letting go of Lula’s memory.
When Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin touched down on the lunar surface in the summer of 1969, they planted a US flag. We all know that. A lesser known fact is that their lunar module carried a metal plaque with the phrase “FOR ALL MANKIND.” So, despite Cold War tensions, the US administration recognised the historical significance of the event. It was not just US citizens landing on the moon for the first time, it was all of humanity.
Today, as we face a human-made climate crisis, we desperately need a similar spirit. We are global citizens with a global responsibility. On June 18th Swiss citizens will have the opportunity to do their part. How so?
We are called to vote in a national referendum on the Climate Law, a counter-proposal to the Glacier Initiative, adopted by parliament last year. The law could have already been enforced if it wasn’t for the far-right UDC triggering a referendum.
What does the law say?
Learning from the criticisms made to the failed 2021 CO2 law, the new law focuses exclusively on encouraging the energy transition away from fossil fuels, rather than betting on punitive measures. Essentially, it enshrines the 2050 goal for net-zero emissions nationwide into law, as well as intermediate goals. To ensure that these goals are met, the law directs the government to create a federal fund that will provide 200 million CHF per year to finance homes and buildings switching their gas and oil burners for climate-friendly heat pumps. This is important, because buildings are the second biggest source of carbon emissions in Switzerland after transportation. The law also provides funding for industries to switch to cleaner production methods.
That’s not very radical…
Indeed, it isn’t. This law is not a “giant leap,” but it is an essential step to slow down our descent towards climate catastrophe.
Why did UDC attack it with a referendum?
Officially to “protect the middle class” against an “extreme and expensive” law.
Is there any merit to UDC’s claim?
No, the law does not create any new taxes. The installation of heat pumps would be covered by the government using existing money and would lead to lower and more stable energy prices. The current energy crisis was, after all, caused by fossil gas shortages. But don’t take my word for it, you can read the full bill here: https://gletscher-initiative.ch/fr/le-contre-projet.
Thus, the UDC just seeks attention in an electoral year (parliamentary elections will take place in the fall of 2023). By positioning itself as a “defender of the middle class” and as an “antidote to wokism,” it is clearly riding a populist wave. Furthermore, it seeks to delay on climate action. Let’s not forget that Albert Rösti was, after all, a lobbyist for Swissoil. As the new environment minister, he is now in the awkward position of having to defend the Climate Law, mere months after initiating the referendum against it. Let’s appreciate the irony of that!
Why write this article?
Because as ridiculous as UDC’s arguments and tactics are, the party is known for its successful, populist campaigns. With this article I implore you (yes, you) to vote YES on the climate law on June 18th. If you can’t vote, at least try to encourage others to do so. Talk about the Climate Law and how UDC is blatantly lying. In order to counter the populist narrative, we need all of civil society to stand up and vote and inform others. Think of it not only as the duty of any and all Swiss citizens, but as the duty of any and all human beings in the fight against the climate crisis. As the plaque on the lunar module says: FOR ALL MANKIND.
Image: “2018 March Art Challenge: Tennis shoes” by sarazambranotarriño. Source
Author: Leah Didisheim
[Content Warning: Medical intervention]
I had never noticed how my feet looked on the ground. I guess, with our busy lives we never have time to notice the little things. But since I was waiting here and I wanted to grab any chance at any distraction possible to forget the person not that far away on the table navigating between two worlds, I had started to look at my feet. When this is over, I’ll definitely buy a new pair of shoes. I owe myself that. If you had told me this morning this was going to happen, I would have made the most of it. I would have kissed them and said I loved them. But no, I had to hurry to take the kids to school, and go to work. And to be fair, he had to hurry too. We barely saw each other in the mornings anymore. It’s the evening we spent more time together. And still, our lives had become so busy that it was difficult to find each other on the same timeline. In any other circumstances, I would have been happy to ditch work to have a break. I guess I had never imagined my first break in six months would have been here. Scared to death of what was going to happen. And having to deal with sending messages about what was happening to people who cared. And the kids. What was I going to say to the kids. They’re so young. He was so young. No. No, no, no. He is so young. I looked up to see if any white lab coat were coming towards me. And if someone was, what was their eyes saying? Were they going to break me? To tell me I was a wid…? I couldn’t even bring myself to say the word. I could feel my heart hitting my chest, my breath speeding up. No, I wasn’t going to cry. Not now, not here. I looked up again, a white blouse was coming towards me. I held my breath.
————————–
It was the end of the day. Today hadn’t been so bad. Some days I had to think real hard to remember why I had chosen this life. Every new death was a new heart to break. That was my job. But then, other days, you could bring joy to the eyes of people waiting. I had that power. And these days I remembered. I looked at the clock. Three hours left and I could go home to my partner and my kid. And I heard yet another siren coming closer. I sighed. It had been a good day. The day when almost nothing bad happened. One could almost describe it as a quiet day. It appeared to be yet another heart attack. Poor guy, he seemed quite young. He was put on one of the beds and moved to the operation room right away. I started to go in, and just looked back for a second. I saw a woman holding her tears, probably the wife. I sighed again and looked up. Please, let me give her good news. I wasn’t religious but sometimes, when I didn’t know what else to do, I looked up and prayed. I didn’t want to go back home with another broken heart on the heart for not succeeding to heal a heart… I took the elevator and went to the operation room. I had done thousands of surgeries of this kind and it was usually going well. And he was still young, so it had to, hopefully, go well and quick this time too. I went in there and started the surgery. Most of the time I could have done it eyes closed. After about three hours – it was not as easy as I had hoped – it was over. I looked up again and sighed. He was going to recover but his life was definitely going to have to change… I washed my hands and left. I took the elevator up again and moved towards his wife to tell her the good news. I smiled. I was not going to break another heart today.
I hate falling asleep, feeling the grasp of a time I can’t feel and won’t see taking me away. Ithread the absence of the hours transformed into seconds. Nights are the ellipses that keep us from tomorrow and, although some are obsessed with the day after, I feel stuck in a narrative where every sentence is conjugated in the past tense. Though I fear sleeping, I loved this one night spent next to you. Feeling your breath on my neck and the soft pressure of your hand on my chest, I found myself decoding your body to find poetry between its lines. There was in the way your eyes haunted my rest a house where I could have found some rest. For a night, we had painted a home with ceilings high enough to dream of later, rooms to raise treasures and a larger bed where we could learn to count till forever. Between these walls of intimacy, we could have learnt the languages of our bodies and the song our scars murmur to each other with our eyes closed. Maybe we would have gotten married, I would have had the white dress I dreamed about as a child, and it would have been intimate enough for you to be yourself. My cousins would have walked with flowers in their hair and our dads would have made a few uncomfortable jokes. Despite everything, your gaze would have been glued tome and I would have spent the day capturing your smile. Your eyes tend to talk more than your smiles. The former are as wide as worlds can be. The latter are as discrete and rare as wonders always have been. I wanted both. On this imaginary day, I would have had in my hand the conviction that we belong to each other. But marriage wasn’t our thing. I left in the morning, leaving you alone with your hopes as I was driving home seated next to my deepest fears. For weeks, I counted the stars, wondering if you ever thought about what we could have been. Do you hate me for being too fragile to start something beautiful and new with you? Do you resent me for the way I said I was not as attached? Did you get enough time between your sleepless nights to picture us happy? Since that night, some parts of the world have changed. The oceans belong to you. The pavements are empty on the roadside. You own the colour black and the label soulmate. Marriage wasn’t our thing, but there is in my heart the trace of vows never said.
[Content Warning: Substance use, brutality, vulgarity, and sexual violence]
i snorted a skyscraper today. i let its inhabitants flow in my civilised-white-ash nostrils and i felt the rush of productivity, the euphoria of paid slavery, the lights of steel cogs and fire.
i remembered the first minutes of this millennium, when the savages attacked other savages, (which is which?) and all their lands of god responded by violence.
astral bodies became our new gods, pushing their product to gather new herds all around the world. i remember when they wanted to crucify christ on live tv, thinking people would pay to see it. they would. of course they fucking would.
we raped our planet and blamed her because she just couldn’t shut her legs. i mean, mother nature is a whore. hunger? what for, hunger doesn’t exist.
i remembered when we handed our power to hatred, or cowardice, self-righteousness on all ends, venomous rats fighting over details, blindly fighting the other because they’re other, because they’re stupid, because they’re savages, because they’re black, white, believers, apostates, etc.
the announcers feeding on fear on one end, and on the other, the tin-foiled hats started to talk. governments are nothing. they mean nothing, in our western world, they have no power without corporations. government and corporation: the king and queen of our game of chess.
i remembered how we liked to push the weak around, just for the fuck of it. is idiocy malignancy? can they live without one another? who knows? maybe the little birds singing and screaming through the cage of light can explain it to us. when does stupidity become consciousness “i’ve never been more awake” said the dreamer to imaginary nightmares. truth is relative, baby. “i’m an ally, he said. just let me fuck you.”
i remembered the neons, on the district, where red meat finds the mouths of carnivorous rats. they wear suits and talk about family and cry for forgiveness when they’re not careful enough. their victims are called Aileen, they’re the fairer sex so you think they can’t kill you. but they don’t eat and they don’t sleep and they let trauma consume them.
americans love rorschach. the black and the white are all that they see, and all blackness is evil, and all whiteness is pure. they hate when their propaganda use rainbows to feast on the oppressed, because they’d rather be brainwashed all alone rather than sharing their lobotomy. kill the gays, they cried to god. kill the muslims, kill the pigs, kill them all.
we build the west on the back of the poor, and otherness is feared as much as familiarity. look at our shiny towers! look at our watches, our art, our language! so perfect. let us debate all these things in the most secluded place in the world, with complicated words and caviar and useless books nobody gives a fuck about, or let the artists who don’t know shit about what they’re talking about (like me) tell you you’re evil and you deserve to die.
like library rats, they yell about ethics and literature, fascinated by a useless field that grows something mostly tasteless, except when the rain falls on the right leaf, wherever this leaf came from. they think themselves as the new thinkers of our world when their destiny is either to rise amongst the elite and get infected by their greed, or die forgotten amongst the useless poor.
you all deserve to die in these gutters. because misanthropy is cool, look at me, i’m not like other boys. i breathe genocide and smell of supremacy, but i don’t even realise it. nietzsche has never been more popular amongst self-made men, even though we all know that, like the rest of us, they can’t understand jack shit of what that nietzsche has written.
who knows who we are. i mean, identity… right? we become another person every minute. so, [insert reference to the ship of Theseus]
And yet, while the noise blinds us, we’re still here. In the ruins of skyscrapers, We remain.
But in its ruins, we find our souls. When all breaks, we become one again.
Yet with all souls comes the impending doom, the element of fear that keeps us awake every single night.
Fear of losing everything, when we know we have already lost it. Fear of smiling, when there’s nothing to smile about anymore.
This fear guides us back to the light, back to the hope and the happiness we once had, it nurses us back to health, keeps us safe from despair, from the perspective of our nothingness.
Because, even in a broken world, there is beauty. Death is just the Hierophant of Life. And even if Life won’t have us, it will endure, it will prevail, without us.
yearning for the roots, growing out of the heads of children, grains of milk-sand drag the leaves across the night sky. reaching for the beyond, abandoning the oneness of all gods, searching through star-filled nightmares, i lead the lost to find the crescent moon they dream of.
