One Helluva of a Week

This week has been weird. The situation seems hopeless. The Reactionary Internationale is moving fast to cage our bodies and tweak our machines. The world is screaming . Where & how do we start?

I don't know

What I know is that I keep on encountering pockets of dialogue and alternative practices, online and through the city. In the past two days, for example, I found one in the usual refuge of Lichtenraderstr 49.

“One publish to find comrades”, said Henri Breton around 100 years ago, as fascism took over the world for the first time. Maybe Breton had less questions about the means of publishing than what we have right now. Certainly, he didn't have to deal with platforms. Lucky him.

Sometimes, I feel we are all circling around with the same set of unanswerable questions. Who own the networks we use to communicate? How does one crave zones for autonomous, creative communication?

Other times, like in these two days, it feels like we are all navigating a common vessel heading towards unkown lands.

It feels we are well equipped with shared knowledges and a bag of pragmatic experience.

Whould it be enough? I don't know

We just keep on going, and keep finding new comrades. It is enough for me.

AYL, 25.01.24, Offline, Berlin