Today #AlAqsa, in flames.
Today #Paris burns.
Today #Jerusalem burns.
Both accidental.
But the striking absence I do not need to point out is...glaringly apparent, with all of its implications.
Two sacred spaces close to my soul.
Two parts ripped in half, my heart going up in smoke.
Speculation about the “real cause” of one, the entire world in mourning. But almost nothing about the other. At all.
Cathedral/France + Destruction = Arab +/- Muslim
But Jesus was not Parisian.
Al-Aqsa in flames. But that’s normal - “for them,” after all.
Which “them,” then, was and is Jesus?
I choose neither
As I also choose both
And refuse to choose at all
This “Clash of Civilizations” becomes less mythic everyday, a fiction instantiated, exponentially. Hourly.
Schizophrenic heartbreak.
That is the dagger in the heart of my point.
I then show them Notre Dame - blocks from my former home in Paris.
I ask the same questions. The answers never match.
And that is the answer.
This is what I need right now. This, and a candle, silence, and sleep. Restoration. Goodnight.
“I believe in love.” #NotreDame #AlAqsa


It also reminds me: I need to log off Twitter. So, thanks.
Cheers, mate.
Doubt it, but why not hope.
By which I mean China and the Uyghurs’ sacred cultural heritage.
bellingcat.com/news/rest-of-w…
