Taking up this pen, I ponder.
I believe that the fridge needs restocking – trip down to the farmers’ market.
I read some more. An archive to fill. A revolution to follow. How many women are fighting for rights?
Every one. Because –
la révolution une femme.
This fountain pen, I take. I ponder. What shall I read? What shall I cook? What shall I write? The cat, stuffed animal, childhood rediscovered, simply stares back at me. Sadly.
An archive on Lebanon to fill. A revolution unfinished. A revolution to follow. Women fighting for their rights. How many?
All of them. Because –
la révolution est une femme.
Remember that you are nothing without us. Who’s us? …… Read. Sing. Listen. Figure out a menu. Armenian music, dance. Remember a privilege, another life. Two other lives.
What is an ideal Saturday? One where we lead a fairer world. More respect. Less stress the businessman way. No costs, added. A world without violence because we are simply women desperate for peace so our children can inherit from us. Write the afternoon. Read the morning.
We are all feminists on the bedside table. Underneath, Andrée Chedid pondering the enigmatic truths of this day, where I advance my words, my rights, my photos, and chasing the pigeons off the balcony, next to the flowers I water week in, week out. What to study next? My rights, my self education outside classroom walls.
Ready to run out and march towards a better paved road to our connected fork in the road. A place where we’ll all meet and challenge those, who dare instill hatred because of who we are.
Not an ideal Saturday, but a day of thoughts in cooking, reading, listening, writing. As my furry friend ponders on sadness of mute life.