Banging one’s head on the wall… not just an expression.
I’ve been awake for 2 whole nights.
I have to write a report.
I have to quantify, assess, evaluate what I’ve seen.
People I’ve met, their families, scarred legs, relatives in jail, fear, sadness.
Real sadness, real hopelessness, a reality that reminds that my own blue feelings are bullshit.
I call bullshit on my report.
Nobody’s going to read it, and even if they do… I know enough to know it won’t matter.
Sir, help is not coming. Your life does not matter; you’re not the right country, not the right religion. Your raided house does not matter; Your son, who has been living in hiding for two years, he does not matter.
Budget will not be allocated anywhere it could have a significant impact. Your enemies are too powerful. Your allies are the wrong ones.
In the debate that matters, any other argument will remain purely academic.
I thought I had it figured out, as a consultant, I consulted. I could work with fashion brands, restaurants, and it allowed me to also do “what I really care about”. Human Rights? Riiiiiiiiiiiight…Alright! So glad I’m moving on to a “real” job, in an office, and a manager telling me what to do and what to think.
Sir, if you still think I can help you… you’re in bigger trouble than you can even imagine.
I’m sorry I’m not important enough to change that, and you’re probably even less important than me.
Policy is a bullshit word… I agree.
Instead of answering my silly questions, maybe you should follow your cousin’s advice and learn about explosives.
There I said it.