I finally got a couple hours of sleep.
The rage has dissolved into tears, and the tears into grim resolve. It’s time to wipe the tears, to do what must be done… and then… to laugh, a laughter sadder than tears.
Do I bother to draw water to drink? Do I prepare food to break the fast? This pen, and these brushes? Is there any reason to pick them up, to make marks on this paper?
How many times I’ve wondered–what was it like, in Germany, 1933?
I think about the people who voted for … I will not write that name, or let it pass my lips… the ‘good Germans’
I will not be a ‘Good German.’ I will not be a ‘Good German.’
No more, the prattle of the ‘realists.’ No more talk of following those who ‘get things done.’ There is no longer any reality worth living, but that which we take up and create for ourselves.
Love, Solidarity, Imagination…RESISTANCE!
Jacob Russell's Magic Names 