the Ghetto
Also in Documenta I tried to stay outside the ghetto. It was on the first day. I saw photographs from somewhere in Africa. They will always tell you that Africa is so big that you will have to be more specific. But Africa is everywhere. I was thinking of Africa. It is not easy to stay outside the ghetto and eventually you will be punished, not everybody can survive. Although if you once have lost yourself to the outside, then you will always be falling. I am not sure, where I began to fall. I have been accostumed to believe that Africa alienated me. Send me into the big ocean with the destiny of no return. But it happened long time before. Besides Africa is not a plan, but a state of mind. Pure existence. To paraphrase a white african, who dedicated himself to avoid the white ghetto in Africa.
As long as I can remember I was afraid of you. I was secretely watching you but did never dare to talk to you or touch you. I felt that I was not part of you. It was only many years later, when I came to Africa that I dared to speak. I never felt so alone and so different before, but nobody seemed to care, not even myself. The real truth was, that everybody knew, that I could not be changed, so they had to accept me as I appeared to them. Things don't change and people remain the same. Nothing to do. When there is nothing to do, I should not try. She reminds me that then we will just get a headache.
On the last day of Documenta I joined an African party. In front of the screen in the room in the castle outside the city, there are mostly young french women. The party continues around the bondfire with african symbols and gothic letters across the screen as graphical interpretations. Black men introduces white mannequins. They burn them as witches in the end after fucking them roughly from behind.
As long as I can remember I was afraid of you. I was secretely watching you but did never dare to talk to you or touch you. I felt that I was not part of you. It was only many years later, when I came to Africa that I dared to speak. I never felt so alone and so different before, but nobody seemed to care, not even myself. The real truth was, that everybody knew, that I could not be changed, so they had to accept me as I appeared to them. Things don't change and people remain the same. Nothing to do. When there is nothing to do, I should not try. She reminds me that then we will just get a headache.
On the last day of Documenta I joined an African party. In front of the screen in the room in the castle outside the city, there are mostly young french women. The party continues around the bondfire with african symbols and gothic letters across the screen as graphical interpretations. Black men introduces white mannequins. They burn them as witches in the end after fucking them roughly from behind.
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