Frozen Wanderer: Week 5-6

Insurrection

DAY 29

Yesterday, “Big Macron” talked, awaking bitterness in my heart, lighting up my anger and each bomb with which I would like to blow up the system. But he mostly heightened my fears, fear nothing will ever change after, fear we’ll go back to the world of before because we have fallen asleep instead of waking up.
We are sworn freedom for May, 11th, what will happen then? Will we overthrow this absurd clown or keep being ruled by this uncrowned dictator?
His flat and hypocrite words, these singing tomorrows whose he has stolen from us, these hopes he has soiled, upset me so deeply I dreamt about revolution all night long…. I was burning toilet papers aisles!

Yesterday, “Big Macron” let us believe we won’t recover full freedom unless a vaccine was found. He is saying that and we are not breaking the quarantine to demonstrate our anger?! He is so sure he has power he states this condition without a glimpse… without fearing a revolution! Haven’t we understood vaccines are big pharmaceutical lobbies? They are only excuses to make rich people even richer? Why don’t people do anything? Because people are suffocating in their quarantine and would accept anything to get out?
Mandatory masks in daily life? “Yes, please, I am dying in my living room!”. Our governments are being smartly cruel. And little by little, without being noticed, masks will become normal like State of Emergency since 2015, like being searched when you enter a library or a country. Without being noticed, we won’t have changed, we will have accepted to be ruled by another fear.

And in between two words, in the name of the greatest good, “Big Macron” is preventing us from what sparkles in us, whats questions us; conscientious objectors are being silented. Theaters, bars, restaurants’s closure are maintained; those improvised places where worlds are remade on the edge of a beer, a plate or a poem; where one argues, where you would laugh at Macron’s “shaking” and “intimate” pronounced in such a short time yesterday. All this won’t exist anymore, already doesn’t exist; and we are getting lost in the only audible words, in the only legal truth. We forget to think, we are frightened, we get bored and we only dream about distraction from we are deprived of to escape. Distraction from this world destroying us, hating us. A few strong and rebellious spririts might rise when we get out, but most people won’t think about freedom, they will think about survival. Most of them will need their drugs to get out of depression and will forget.

And I? I won’t fortunately be able to. Borders will remain closed and I won’t be able to fly so I can only see beauty. I will have to face the ugly and the hypocritical, the same shit “Big Macron” served us for 30 minutes yesterday. And my survival will not depend on escape, my survival will depend on war. The real one, the peaceful one, towards what restricts and kills us little by little.
I don’t believe in “Big Macron”‘s fake clarity, this made up hope he adorns his words with, this hypocritical humility “yes, I failed you guys, but I was not the only one”… I saw his satisfied smile, this illusion to be our savior he is so happy about. You didn’t fool me, Mister President, you are playing your best character, but I saw it in your eyes: you are enjoying this and this is disgusting!
And I am so afraid people fell for your performance… They already did in the past, your first round electors in 2017 forgot you were hiding behind the Loi Travail that had thrown people in the streets in 2016, powerless and angry. A part of people forgot and sanctioned the left wing government by choosing the providential man coming from nowhere. What a joke! You didn’t come from nowhere since you were the government to sanction. I didn’t forget back then. I won’t either on May, 11th.
For masks after pandemic time is like a condom after childbirth, Mister President, it is useless!

DAY 30

Can you taste danger? As you are driving with no valid reason, out of the authorized perimeter? Can you feel the lump in your stomach because a moody policeman could pull you over? You are not being dangerous though. Forbidden yes, but not dangerous. And you think about Antigone and her idea of a Men’s Law and a Gods’Law.
You drive around from one place to another because you thought you would be quarantined for only a month and you left some stuff behind. Stuff you don’t actually really need; you have done without for a month, for ten months. Yet, you drive, for the reckless taste, for the forbidden fire to be tiny tiny outlaw. You feel like a resistant even if you are so far from saving the world, simply because of the feeling in both your stomach and heart. All your senses are bigger because you haven’t been out for a month and your sense of reality is completely upside down. Can you taste the danger?

For three hours, I was an outlaw without being dangerous; I cherished freedom taste in my heart.

DAY 31

Time is elastic, it endlessly stretches or shrinks to nothing in my mind. Really, I don’t know how long I have been writing to you. Time is relative, I found out with absence. But I almost feel like I am the master of time right now. Of my time. Like I could turn minutes into hours, depending on my need and desire. I feel like I am in another dimension, sickness is unreal again and the world as you has known it doesn’t exist anymore.
I think this magic sand glass is created by my absence of present. Like anyone else you would say. Yes but different. I spend my days in another dimension as I am writing. About past travels, made-up stories, countries I try to recreate. I am never in the now, I am always in my own imaginations whose timeline is so peculiar and only belongs to me.
My time is elastic.

DAY 34

Yesterday, I failed my scones; inevitably, I had failed my life. Something has been bothering me inside for a few days and I am quite unable to know what. I write my insurrection calls without truly seeing it deeply upsets me. Anger is blind.
I am so mad with the world, with my own memories. Really, when you get quarantined, you can’t escape your dark depths. I am 15 again and my teenage mind is spinning.

DAY 39

Improvised habit, I listen to radio on my way to vineyards. Outside world’s escaped pieces of what is awaiting for us tomorrow. They are talking about tracking, we will all get an appli – if we are willing to of course, we shall not believe we are being deprived of our freedom – so we can know if we have been in touch with somebody who had the virus.
Let’s picture tomorrow? I am telling you it is ugly.
Tracking, contactless payements – forget bills and change -; why do I feel like the world which is offered is exactly the one I was fighting before? Before, do you remember before? Before the virus, quarantine and being fooled.
Really, I’d rather stay in my bubble; anytime I go back to reality, I feel nauseous! This is our revolution? Our change? Mask and gloves are more than a sanitary gesture, it is being a good citizen. I am sorry, I can’t, it hurts my eyes and soul. We all know how it begins, we do it because we have to – tracking, virtual money, masks and gloves -, we struggle a bit maybe, and it viciously becomes normal. This masks waltz… But I say no to this masks waltz, I say no to tomorrow’s world even more rotten than yesterday. I say no, I want something else, I have other ideas and I am not alone. Then come, come and let’s build another world together, and hold hands together, yes hands without gloves.
And I refuse to be called a bad citizen for this middle-class refusal. I hate this virus bluring our liars detectors but I won’t play with my fellow citizen’s health. I won’t wear a mask. I will go out less, not because I am being said so, but because it is my normal path. I will enjoy the desert in any inside landscape.

In the beginning of this quarantine, I hoped it was a blessing in disguise, an awaiting transformation. I was not naive enough to think our leaders would change but I was sure our reactions would. And I start to have doubts because their words are stronger than ever; we are doomed to shadow, to invisible and silence. We can’t unite, lonely in our quarantines, then only facing puppets, only hearing stupid speeches, I get frightened. Hopefully, a tiny sparkle remains, because powerful revolutions always come from shadow.

The blury roundabout rises in the haze; behind sun blows, pulling me away from my revolutionary anger. I don’t know if I went through time or space, radio has changed its speaker. I listen to this French author talking about his written immobile journey. Compas. Then, he talks about Death in Venice, cholera in desert channels. He would like to witness those empty and dormant places we wouldn’t picture like this. Venice. New York. Paris. He would like to wander throughout this paused world. Me as well, oh so much. Not because I miss movement, but because I would touch my travel’s unreachable dream: create the exception, live the unique experience.

Then, I go back to my familiar winery work. I go up vineyards as I drop wires, I think about upcoming summer. Here. Frozen in between my country’s borders, this place I have been escaping for four years. Blown by the same suffocating heat of this sunny but wet morning; so much it will give me a sun stroke.

DAY 40

We are this fatal day: 40, the number giving name to our curent situation. We are quarantined but tomorrow, what will we be? Quarantined and one? This number 40 brought me back to my deeper childhood memories, for better or worse, and, most of all, links me to a forgotten part: insurgent me.
One day, too powerless in front of my world, certain my actions were vain, I abandoned. I kinda flew from reality, all realities, mine, my country’s, my planet’s, by traveling all the time. I became passenger of the world, wanderer of the instant, not staying somewhere long enough to feel the need to change what didn’t fit me. But today, frozen in the same place, more than necessity, I feel a blossoming hope. And because I am a traveler, my hope goes for the entire world. And because I am a traveler, because I have realized our connections – real and invisible-, I know each country’s individual happiness goes with a global collapse. So our societies finally know the necessary end of the world in order to create a new paradigme, fairer and more human.

Then, yes, my rebel soul rises again, would like to speak and write instead.