“I cannot breathe”, who else!?

Copyrights: The image is a graffiti created by the artist Gonz (TPM Crew) in the castle park, Mannheim, Germany

I have always thought that someday in the second millennium I will be lying on the beach somewhere in the world where the sun creeps over its blue sky. In its first 20 years, I’ll be slackened and relaxed sipping my coffee while half-naked browny- reddish swimmers are bustling around. Neat robots are serving us all; they are moving around and the giggling sound of their clutched metallic joints dingle in our ears. We are all laughing rejoicing the kind of luxurious effortless life that let us all sway, here, anywhere in the world, like an almond leaf falling from the limb of her mother tree. In the following 20 or thirty years, I’ll probably be packing my suitcase for the next shuttle to Mars where my granddaughter lives there with her family. Well, until then I should get accustomed to the ethereal ventilation-system tenaciously developed by governments to match the lack of oxygen over there far above the glittering stars. For the next and next years, I’ve never even bothered myself thinking about, of days that I will not see their light or breathe their silvery gentle breeze. Tentatively, I will feel satisfied that I’ve been lucky enough to live on a verge of a tipping-point epoch in the human history, to witness this tremendous transition from the remnants of the classics of humankind to that of an avant- grade. How lucky we are; we are the verge-generation, with a foot striding in and the other is out.

2010: A morning sends a kiss to the sleeping world awakening the little sparrows to find a new shelter, the trees are not breathing well. I do not want to wake up but nobody asks me what I want. The earth is suffocating pleading deliverance. There is a black swirl piercing the horizon; as if it were cutting the world into two bloody- edged pieces. I told you before I didn’t want to wake up hearing our mother-nature screaming: I can’t breathe.

2020: Probably flights to Mars are postponed, they say there is a bug annoying the greedy monstrous heads of the world. I do not want to wake up too until this nightmare renounces by itself. A worthwhile manoeuvre. I see now people look like astronauts or passengers for the new flight; each is wearing a white suit, considerably large one with a yellow tube penetrating a big gauzy helmet. Presumably it is a trendy costume to avian passengers. Hold on! I said to myself in panic, they can’t breathe!

Whiteness. I am not comfortable when surrounded by such a yellowish brightness. It is pale rather than promising. A scream roars beyond vision reproachingly asks: ‘Where is your brother?’. ‘I don’t know’, I murmured spontaneously. Will I dare wake up when the world is that colourless? Will I stay hopeful when I now figure out that the world is drowned in illusion? I am devoured by the illusion of this human better-nessgreatness and self-composure whereas the fact is that we are swarming in a viral world with other viruses whose lives apparently also matter! Whoever has thought about it?

I finally have the courage to wake up. On a high-tech screen, I saw people screaming laud: “I can’t breathe”. The red tape hastened itself like a frightened snake running-away after an ambush; the news was not that unfamiliar to me. I realised that I have heard such stories and tragedies one day, at another time. I asked my 11-years daughter next to me: “Is that a historical documentary?”. Her answer was bleak, cynical and brief like a bullet: “No”. Shortly afterwards, still unbelievable of what was going on, few lines appeared on the screen beside a photo of a holy-book man, a blonde kind of them. By reading the lines, an obnoxious feeling dominated my heart, my mind went numb, then I looked away deniably. Hesitant I turned towards my daughter, I wanted to tell her you were wrong; and it is coming back again, striking again. I restrained, probably driven by my desperate willingness to let her have her own dream of a ‘better future”, or probably out of bitterness, cowardice or incapability I retreated. I had in mind lots of images of a baby-elephant that can’t breathe, of our earth groaning since it cannot breathe and of our conscience which stopped to breathe before I adjusted my place on the snug couch and gazed at the lines again. They say:

When you elect a president:

When you elect a president, make sure he/she knows history
When you elect a president, make sure he/she has learnt from history 
When you elect a president, make sure he/she is not ‘greater’ than you 
When you elect a president, remember that you share responsibility 
And that this means your voice can be heard


When you elect a president, remember that lots in the world 
have never had the chance to make their voices heard 
‘Cause their presidents are always the greatest
‘Cause their responsibility is always to follow and respect 
And that they want to breathe


When you elect a president remember that lots in the world 
Do know history and have learnt from history but,
they have never had the chance to elect a president
They can’t breathe
They can’t eat
Copyrights: by Cartoonist Fares Garabet as a protest against the Caesar Act enacted by the USA on Syria and will be valid by next week: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caesar_Syria_Civilian_Protection_Act


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