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• I CANNOT BE SILENCE(D) ANYMORE

  BY KIRSTEN HESHUSIUS

  Only by undergoing abuse do I now see it around me all the time—not only the abuse I experienced but also racism, gender inequality, abuse of the planet and the underlying structures of power. What strikes me in my waking up process is that the victims of whatever abuse suffer silently. Speaking up about it doesn’t help most of the time because people don’t believe you or tell you it wasn’t all that bad, whereby they are causing extra harm and isolation. I understand this mechanism of disbelief now. If you acknowledge abuse, you must step out of your comfort zone and leave behind this false sense of security. You have to take responsibility. Most people won’t do this. I stepped out of the groove—I cannot be silence(d) anymore.  
• YOUR WOUNDS BLEED ME تمہارے زخموں سے میرا خون

  BY PRIIYA PRETHORA

  The last walk to a melting glacier and the rituals of walking the moist ground it reveals by leaving. Things to carry with oneself on wounded paths and singing to the ancient frozen imprints disappearing into the memory of algal blooms sprouting in the warm seas. A journey on foot, connecting homes across the nomadic landscapes of borrowed belonging. A body alive, in the haunts of breaking ice.
• ECCE (H)OMO, GUERRIERI (WARRIORS)

  Kyrahm’s note: “In the last years, I met extraordinary warriors. I attended LGBT activists meetings before the Italian government approved the Civil Partnership Bill. I met with people struggling to build a model of society where diversity is a value. For health issues, I connected to the most intimate part of human fragility: the fear of death. I got in touch with other warriors, fighting against physical diseases. I chose not to be afraid. With humbleness, I gathered those people to expose their bodies and souls, voluntarily performing themselves and their real life-stories. A mother without legal rights on her baby girl. A woman in love with her girlfriend. The courage of the disabled and the pride of age and illness.” The live performance and the resulting docufilm reflect on the mother/child relationship compared and opposed to that one of a son who takes care of his elderly mother. A Pietas, acted out with a disabled boy, silently claims the fairness of all bodies to be loved, as well as a woman and her twenty-three years enduring relationship with her beloved partner; the tears of a silver-haired Venus watching at her lover’s face signed by time; and those who find the strength to transmit messages of love despite the fight against cancer. A key issue is the role of the voice: the voice of those who are no longer with us and the voice changing with time and illness.