Not For Print Issue 02 Submission
You’ve flown by, like every year.
The rhythm was at times upbeat, but more often a slow, descending drum beating to the unexpected.
The water finally rose, realising how many wanted to jump in and drown out the voices of others. If the water was tepid, it’s rising now.
The ground we were walking on suddenly wove, inwards, outwards braving the many words that were pacing below.
Heads clashed, tears were spilt and the air settled with a dim realisation.
We can feign ignorance, call you a mirage that will fade and miraculously return to the vision of the 90s.
But 2016, you were the initial disbelief; the combined shaking of heads, of not believing that a line in the sand could become a fortress or a mecca.
Will you mark a beginning of disparate change, or be a redundant flag waving foolishly in our timeline?
You spoke freely and opened many eyes. You made enemies, and you gained a following. You broke with tradition, and you joined with tradition.
You were a monumental year.
Whether you will stand alone is only for time to tell.
Where will we go?
Beckon me forward and give me my gold. I walked this far, and I deserve to see the nod of your head. Burning embers ignite the night sky and the frown on your face is hidden. Almost. I’ll work till the skin on my hands is a coarse rubber. Unattainable good, attainable wrath and helplessness. If it’s easier to stroll into the shadows, why do we fight so hard to stay in the light? Let your breath rush through your body. Step back and remember the moment where happiness and sadness combusted into an inexhaustible flame within your heart. Feel its warmth and walk back to the light, hold the hands of those who we call Man and remember that passion and compassion are brethren. Once we have lost, reached the pinnacle of our destruction, only and only then will we see the error of our ways. We shouldn’t wait any longer.
Don’t buckle, take the bricks that are thrown and stow them away. Taking each brick carefully, remind yourself of the sticks and stones. Build a goddamn mansion.
Ashford, Kent, UK
A series of written entries: a letter, freewriting and a remembrance from the past four years, to the constant shift of change we find ourselves in. To resist is to shift before it settles. Let us never settle.
@notforprint @wetransfer #resist