December 25, 2054


Content Warning: Drowning.

I won’t leave the roof… people float by, you see them, where there were streets..

I’m not a bad person.

I hold my bones close for warmth, to counteract what I see… blame, my grandparents saw the glass getting fuller – they must have known it would overflow, at some time… they just wanted to be comfortable… I just want to be comfortable.

Someone I know just passed by.

*Someone I knew.

Cars were dangled to distract my grandparents from shifts,  when companies started to write the law… when the CEO of JPMorgan was appointed Whip, and when the poisoning of the crops started, my grandfather was twenty-one.

We all want to be comfortable: we don’t want to face uncomfortable things.

I don’t want to talk about why I didn’t just jump in, after this person, for example, who just passed by…

The justifying part of me says I don’t have a rope, so I’m not going to put myself at more risk.

I just want to be safe. I just want my family to be alright.

I let little things happen here and there, a murder here, enslavement there, so long it isn’t happening to my family… so long as death isn’t in my face… my grandfather, for example, stopped eating the poisoned food while in the hospital, with the tumours… too late…

At least I have made it to this roof.

Someone I knew just passed.

Blaming is easy: did he hate me? Did he hate our species… did he never imagine me alive, when he was doing nothing…

The design of selling resources and GMO food in the Era of Capitalism on Steroids hid the cost of impending death, and how the population was assumed idiots, to be test-bunnies for the poisons… how much do we blame…

There’s surely something beautiful about the moment… from the roof, now… I am here for this moment, on this intricate arrangement of wood… it used to be so high, above the street… there is something beautiful in its intricacy… my life is not permanent… I inhale the appreciation of design… there isn’t anybody to tell and maybe that is why it is worth something. Maybe that is why I write.

word by Liam Lachance, a writer from Montréal, who just published his first novel, Blu Swag

colour by Arne Quinze, a multi-talented artist from Sint-Martens-Latem, Belgium, who creates sculptures, drawings, paintings, and large-scale installations.

From the author: “The classic Christmas story is about hope and family.

This story is about hope and family.

This story is about hope because it is not too late: we can still prevent our grandchildren’s deaths: we can still regain control over our water, and our right to know whether there is poison in our food.

This story is about hope because I believe we have a collective will for respect. This collective will is manipulated into “a collective will for my family,” or a demographic told to us worth of humanity, marketed to us for particular profit plans from particular interest groups or companies.

For example, all the countries in the Northern Hemisphere versus those of the South. All the manipulations of what race is more deviant and worthy of death, and which is ‘naturally’ deserving of respect and life. The rich versus the poor in all Western countries.

This story is about hope because I believe we can wake up if we think of what this road will lead to. Mute a commercial or a news program, and see how stupid they assume you are – what basic symbols are necessary for you to get convinced of what you need to be, who does and not deserve life, and what companies we are allowed to question.

This story on hope was inspired by the creative work of Arne Quinze, whose unique installation serves as a raft to the protagonist during a flood.”


Author: Word and Colour

words inspired by colour

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