dear life 89
Dear life,
In Heathrow airport, between my two flights, I head towards the bookstore on one corner of the airport terminal. Let’s just not say anything of Harry Potter being here and there, everywhere. I open this book, Wall and Piece, by Bansky, which has pictures of different walls around the world (seems he is a well-known UK graffiti artist and this is a collection of his works). There were these pages on the Palestine wall, Occupation wall, whatever it is called, and besides the pictures what shook me were these sentences (I have forgotten the exact quotes, but I jot down the ideas):
Palestine is actually the largest open-air prison in the world – I had never thought of it that way, but when you think of it, you think that’s right and sad and devastating. But then again, this idea suddenly pops up to my mind: even if there is not a wall around your country, yet you are not allowed to travel freely or to have contact with the outside world, just because of the borders you live in and the place you call home, because politicians in and out decide so, isn’t it just some other kind of prison, less obvious than any other? And if you want to think this even farther aren’t we all living in some kind of prison, consciously or unconsciously?
Then there was this other information: The occupation wall is one of the world’s key attractions to graffiti artists, who travel to the area sometime around the year to use it as their free canvas. You think it doesn’t bother anyone and it even makes the wall more bearable, but then there follows words by a Palestinian: We don’t want the wall and you come here to make it beautiful? And then you think to yourself what use is it to make something so despised beautiful, doesn’t it make it even harder to bear, cause it shows you how others are strangers to your feelings toward that entity?
I am just thinking how different the world seems when seen from different points of view. How different.
In Heathrow airport, between my two flights, I head towards the bookstore on one corner of the airport terminal. Let’s just not say anything of Harry Potter being here and there, everywhere. I open this book, Wall and Piece, by Bansky, which has pictures of different walls around the world (seems he is a well-known UK graffiti artist and this is a collection of his works). There were these pages on the Palestine wall, Occupation wall, whatever it is called, and besides the pictures what shook me were these sentences (I have forgotten the exact quotes, but I jot down the ideas):
Palestine is actually the largest open-air prison in the world – I had never thought of it that way, but when you think of it, you think that’s right and sad and devastating. But then again, this idea suddenly pops up to my mind: even if there is not a wall around your country, yet you are not allowed to travel freely or to have contact with the outside world, just because of the borders you live in and the place you call home, because politicians in and out decide so, isn’t it just some other kind of prison, less obvious than any other? And if you want to think this even farther aren’t we all living in some kind of prison, consciously or unconsciously?
Then there was this other information: The occupation wall is one of the world’s key attractions to graffiti artists, who travel to the area sometime around the year to use it as their free canvas. You think it doesn’t bother anyone and it even makes the wall more bearable, but then there follows words by a Palestinian: We don’t want the wall and you come here to make it beautiful? And then you think to yourself what use is it to make something so despised beautiful, doesn’t it make it even harder to bear, cause it shows you how others are strangers to your feelings toward that entity?
I am just thinking how different the world seems when seen from different points of view. How different.
posted by friend @ 2:25 PM
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