The text passionately conveys that each number, like the reported deaths, represents a profound loss of life and potential. It emphasizes that these numbers aren't mere statistics but are individuals with dreams, hopes, and everyday aspirations. The concept of home is crucial, where belonging to familiar sounds, forms, and smells matters deeply. The text challenges understanding from a distant perspective and suggests a need for a new map, one without borders, where communities are interconnected and cultures freely exchange without imposition.

The text reflects on two core principles of their collective: non-hierarchical structure and being porous. It acknowledges the challenges of shape-shifting to accommodate new members and navigate institutional spaces. The author shares personal struggles with chronic pain exacerbated in collective environments, leading to reflections on identity, guilt, and societal expectations. They question how porousness can be achieved amid personal and collective struggles, suggesting a need for institutions to embrace flexibility and understanding. Ultimately, it frames the collective as a gathering of resilient yet vulnerable individuals striving for inclusivity and adaptation.

The text discusses a voice piece created by the speaker and Hanan during a workshop in Brussels. Titled "Anger," it explores the theme of anger as a powerful force in their lives. The speaker expresses that anger has been instrumental in overcoming oppression and speaks to the contrast between anger and silence. They also hint that Hanan shares similar experiences of oppression and utilizes anger as a response. The piece reflects their individual voices and how anger manifests uniquely in each of them.

The text is a poignant reflection on a childhood experience of being forced to wear a full black dress with a head cover, likely a burqa, due to religious reasons. The speaker, a five-year-old child, expresses frustration and sadness at being unable to play freely like other children because of the restrictive clothing imposed by their mother. The mother's explanation, that wearing the dress is necessary in Islam and disobedience would lead to severe punishment in hell, leaves a lasting impact on the child's perception of other girls and their own identity. The text highlights the emotional and psychological burden imposed on the speaker at a young age.

Kadar Zubat lives now 59 years in Belgium, originally he is from Morocco and talks about the work in the coal mining sector.

The text discusses the challenges faced by Hanan and her friends in finding proper housing. It highlights the difficulties refugees and asylum seekers encounter, including being denied access to housing and facing long waiting lists. The group's collective effort made the process somewhat easier compared to individual attempts. For Hanan, obtaining housing was a significant challenge even after obtaining her documents, and she currently resides in a small, humid studio with her mother. Despite the conditions, having this space is seen as fortunate, albeit unjust, due to the bribes and challenges involved. The ongoing search for better housing continues amidst the complexities of language learning and caregiving for a disabled mother.

The text explores the concept of the moment between what was and what will be. It reflects on the transformative power of such moments, where old orders dissolve, making way for new creations and cosmic events. It delves into the idea of perpetual rebirth through these explosive moments of creation, where existing realities are annihilated to give rise to something new. It contemplates the potential of unmanifested spaces and raw materials waiting to be shaped into existence.

The speaker comes from a family of Anatolian refugees who experienced genocide in the Ottoman Empire a century ago, affecting Armenians, Greeks, Muslims, and Jews. They believe losing land and culture is profoundly traumatic and resonates across generations. They argue that countries hosting refugees should support cultural remembrance rather than promote assimilation. Multiculturalism, they argue, is essential for societal progress, allowing people to preserve languages and traditions. They advocate for projects like Syrian embroidery to preserve cultural practices and stress the importance of remembering genocides to prevent their recurrence and maintain cultural identity.

The text explores deep reflections on identity, heritage, and the burdens of motherhood across generations. It begins with vivid childhood memories of snorkeling and observing sea life, juxtaposed with poignant descriptions of the narrator's grandmother: a resilient Asian refugee who defied expectations to rediscover herself later in life. The grandmother's journey contrasts sharply with the narrator's mother, who endured a violent marriage and divorce, embodying a different type of strength. The narrative then delves into broader themes of patriarchy, displacement, and personal pain, linking these to the narrator's own experiences as an activist and a woman navigating multiple cultural and societal identities. Questions about inherited trauma, the impact of migration, and the struggle to balance activism with self-care are central. The text concludes with a haunting question about the role of activism in modern society and its toll on personal well-being. Overall, it's a profound exploration of family history, cultural heritage, and the personal and collective struggles faced by women across generations.

The text reflects on the journey of personal growth and discovery through overcoming anger and dissatisfaction. Initially surrounded by childhood friends, the narrator feels constrained by societal expectations and their demands. A moment of intense anger becomes a turning point. They decide to leave, seeking their own path and eventually finding new people who share similar aspirations. The narrator emphasizes that embracing anger as a powerful energy can lead to positive change and creativity. For them, this journey led to becoming an artist, using art as a medium to express dissent and communicate freely without hidden agendas. Without channeling their anger into art, they suggest they might have ended up in a different, less productive place. Overall, the text explores the transformative power of anger when harnessed constructively, leading to personal liberation and creative expression.

The text discusses a situation where the narrator, speaking from an institutional perspective, invited the post collective to participate in an event. There was a misunderstanding and miscommunication about the format and expectations for their involvement. Initially, the institution proposed specific time slots and shared hosting, which conflicted with the post collective's desire for autonomy and self-determination in their presentation. Realizing the mistake, the narrator reflected on the power dynamics inherent in institutional contexts, where decisions can inadvertently impose on the autonomy of invited groups. This experience was a learning moment, prompting deeper consideration of how power operates within institutional settings, often overlooked or taken for granted. The narrator acknowledged the complexity of these dynamics, having been on both sides as an artist invited by institutions and now as a representative making decisions. Overall, the text highlights the challenges of navigating power relations in collaborative efforts between institutions and independent collectives, emphasizing the importance of respecting autonomy and fostering mutual understanding in such engagements

The text discusses the challenges and dynamics of institutions collaborating with collectives, particularly those composed of individuals who do not receive salaries. Over several years of working together, the institution has learned to adjust to the collective's unique needs and communication styles, which initially led to misunderstandings and lengthy negotiations. Now, they are focusing on creating structured approaches to accommodate last-minute requests and unforeseen circumstances, aiming to streamline processes and improve mutual understanding. The narrator emphasizes the importance of practical discussions and structural support for these collaborations within institutions, highlighting the efforts of institutional leaders to advocate for the realities of these collectives during internal conversations. They stress the ongoing need for clarity and proactive management of logistical and support issues, acknowledging the complexities of working with diverse collectives, some of which may function differently than traditional understandings of collective groups. Overall, the text underscores the ongoing learning process and the necessity of clear communication and supportive frameworks in institutional collaborations with collectives, recognizing the valuable contributions these groups make despite inherent challenges.

The text recounts the personal journey of seeking asylum in Belgium and navigating the challenges that followed. It starts with the process of fingerprinting and waiting for asylum approval, which felt invasive and disempowering. The narrator reflects on carrying traumas from Libya to Belgium, where they now live and work. Despite securing a job in a social nonprofit organization, the demands of a capitalistic system and the pressure of performing in a new language, Dutch, have taken a toll. The narrator describes struggling with burnout, anxiety, and physical exhaustion, culminating in a moment where they were unable to get out of bed despite being only 31 years old and medically healthy. The financial strain adds to their burden, compounding feelings of guilt and isolation. Overall, the text portrays a poignant narrative of resilience amidst adversity, illustrating the emotional and physical challenges faced by immigrants and asylum seekers in integrating into a new society while coping with past traumas and present pressures.

L'interviewé évoque son premier film, Clock Machina, réalisé à 16 ans avec des amis et des membres de sa famille. Le tournage a eu lieu dans des ruines et un garage à Uccle, avec un budget modeste. Il raconte une anecdote marquante sur une scène impliquant des boyaux de mouton, soulignant les conditions rudimentaires et l'enthousiasme de cette période. Il explique aussi comment il a découvert le Super 8, en fouillant dans les archives familiales, et mentionne l'accessibilité du médium à l'époque, ce qui lui a donné envie de créer des films.

Pierre partage son expérience avec le Super 8, expliquant qu'il n'a jamais fait partie d'un club. Il a commencé à réaliser des films à l'âge de 12 ans avec une caméra de son père, créant notamment un film d'animation en stop motion à l'aide d'une lampe à bronzer. Il évoque l'importance des projections d'images animées lors des camps scouts, où il a appris à monter des films. Sa passion pour le cinéma a été alimentée par les archives familiales et les expériences passées de ses frères. Il compare le processus de développement des films à l’époque avec la technologie moderne, soulignant la patience nécessaire pour découvrir le résultat de son travail.

Pierre évoque sa participation au festival, précisant qu'il n'a pas assisté à la première édition en raison d'un accident de moto qui l'a immobilisé à l'hôpital. Il a appris des nouvelles du festival à distance, par le biais de ses parents. Il parle aussi d'une initiative de Robert qui a rassemblé des cinéastes pour documenter le 25e anniversaire du règne du roi Baudouin, mais il n'a pas pu participer. Concernant la diffusion de ses films, il mentionne des demandes de chaînes comme Antenne 2 et la RTB, mais il a hésité à envoyer ses œuvres par crainte de perte. Il évoque aussi un projet personnel intitulé "Roulez Jeunesse," qu'il a refait en 2017, qui célèbre ses souvenirs d'enfance liés à la Foire du Midi à Bruxelles.

Pierre parle de son projet de film sur la Foire du Midi, qu'il a réalisé en 2017, 40 ans après sa première expérience de tournage. À l'époque, il utilisait un enregistreur à bandes et a interviewé divers forains et passants, intégrant ces enregistrements audio dans son film. Dans son projet plus récent, il a écrit un texte de 3 à 4 minutes sur la foire, illustrant des thèmes allant de l'enfance à la vieillesse à travers des images volées sur le site de la foire, sans demander d'autorisations. Ce travail a donné lieu à deux films : une version longue de 45 minutes, divisée en chapitres sur différents aspects de la vie, et une version courte qui met en avant son texte avec une bande-son musicale qu'il a choisie. Il évoque également les changements au fil des ans, notamment l'impact des smartphones et la transformation des attractions de la foire, tout en célébrant la vitalité populaire des événements passés.

Pierre, à 16 ans, a commencé sa carrière artistique en réalisant un court documentaire sur une femme aveugle rencontrée près de son école. Ce premier projet le relie à son environnement, notamment le boulevard du Midi. Formé comme comédien au conservatoire, il a travaillé dans le son pour le théâtre et la publicité, et a créé des sculptures interactives pour des expositions internationales. Actuellement, il privilégie l'écriture et la production.

Pierre a reçu le prix du jeune réalisateur pour Clock Machina et se souvient d’une expérience positive au festival. À 16 ans, il a trouvé l'aventure passionnante, utilisant 15 bobines de film, ce qui représentait une belle somme à l'époque. Il évoque des souvenirs chaleureux de l'organisation, animée par un esprit culturel et créatif, plutôt que par une atmosphère de club fermée. Il souligne le contraste entre le milieu culturel des années 70 et celui d'aujourd'hui, où l'offre est pléthorique mais moins accessible. À l'époque, il était facile de se sentir intégré dans un courant culturel commun, contrairement à la segmentation actuelle où chaque niche peut passer inaperçue.

Pierre n'a pas de souvenirs marquants spécifiques, mais il se rappelle des noms de cinéastes influents comme Mirko Popovitch, qui ont suscité son intérêt par la suite. Le festival a eu une importance légitimante pour lui, lui permettant de se sentir visible et reconnu en tant que jeune cinéaste, même si cette reconnaissance lui semblait limitée. Cela a élargi son horizon artistique et l'a aidé à sortir de son cercle restreint. Il reconnaît qu'il a passé beaucoup de temps à essayer de faire comme les autres au lieu de suivre sa propre voie. Maintenant, en enseignant, il encourage ses élèves à développer leur propre style.