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'interview est avec Mohamed, un employé des "Jeunes Jardiniers" depuis plus de 14 ans, spécialisé dans l'entretien des jardins et la supervision d'équipes. Il intervient pour former ses collègues aux techniques du métier. Bien qu'il ait travaillé autour de la Cité Modèle chez des clients, c'est sa première journée à cet endroit. Son rôle consiste à "dégrossir" le travail en éliminant les plantes envahissantes et en remettant le jardin dans son état d'origine. Malgré le manque de temps et le laissé-aller dans certaines parties du jardin, il se montre satisfait de pouvoir contribuer à l'entretien de cet espace qui demande beaucoup d'attention.

Dans cet enregistrement, Mohamed exprime son admiration pour la Cité Modèle, un espace urbain verdoyant rare en plein milieu de logements sociaux. Il remarque la présence de nombreuses infrastructures comme des espaces de jeux pour enfants et des coins fleuris, rendant le lieu agréable à vivre. Lorsqu'il compare la Cité Modèle à d'autres jardins qu'il a traversés dans sa carrière, il souligne la bonne conception du jardin, avec son harmonie de couleurs, ses espaces verts et ses sentiers. Il explique qu'il aime être entouré de verdure, une passion qui dépasse son métier de jardinier. Il raconte comment, dans sa rue à Forest, il a transformé l'environnement en plantant et en réhabilitant des plantes malades, apportant ainsi une deuxième vie à sa rue. Lui même vit dans une maison avec un jardin fleuri et un petit patio méditerranéen, où il cultive des plantes exotiques, des légumes et des fruitiers.

Mohamed explique que les habitants de la Cité Modèle semblent repliés sur eux-mêmes, limitant leurs interactions à des routines quotidiennes. Il estime que des activités collectives comme un potager pourraient encourager les échanges et renforcer les liens sociaux. Bien que la Cité dispose de beaux espaces verts, il manque des projets collectifs pour les animer. Il se définit comme un "homme de la terre", et exprime son besoin d'espace pour cultiver et créer, expliquant que la vie en appartement limite ce contact avec la nature. Il souligne que des initiatives communautaires pourraient inciter les habitants à mieux profiter de leur environnement.

Mohamed explique que le manque de connexion avec la nature à la Cité Modèle est lié aux contraintes sociales, notamment le faible pouvoir d'achat. Il propose d'organiser des brocantes de plantes pour encourager les échanges et initier les habitants à la verdure. Ces initiatives pourraient renforcer les interactions sociales. Pour lui, un bon entretien des espaces verts implique de donner aux plantes l'espace nécessaire et de maintenir les parterres propres, tout en préservant certaines zones plus sauvages, selon les directives des responsables, pour créer des coins champêtres.

Mohamed explique que laisser certains coins sauvages en ville permet de préserver la biodiversité, essentielle pour maintenir un équilibre naturel avec les insectes et la pollinisation. Il oppose cette vision à celle de tailler systématiquement, ce qui détruit cette "campagne en ville." Il critique les environnements où la biodiversité est négligée, préférant travailler dans des projets qui respectent la nature. Si on lui confiait la gestion de la Cité Modèle, il prioriserait des jardins collectifs pour favoriser l'interaction sociale et la connexion avec la nature. Ces espaces verts permettraient aux habitants de se rassembler, d'échanger et de revitaliser la cité en créant un esprit communautaire autour de la culture et du partage.

L'équipe de Peliskan explique que, grâce à un subside européen, iels ont acquis un scanner pour numériser divers formats de films, dont le Super 8, le 9,5 mm et le 16 mm. Iels envisagent de créer une base de données pour valoriser ces films, incluant des interviews et des projections. Christian Van Custem partage sa passion pour le cinéma, née de ses visionnages du Ciné-Club de minuit. Il raconte avoir acheté une caméra et commencé à filmer, évoquant son premier court-métrage sur une manifestation communiste à Bruxelles. Il souligne l'importance du cinéma comme moyen d'expression, en particulier pour des causes sociales et politiques. Christian Van Custem a principalement réalisé des documentaires, notamment à la Fondation Jacquemotte et au Centre Vidéo de Bruxelles, où il a lancé des ateliers vidéo pour divers publics. Il décrit son parcours de transition du Super 8 aux bandes vidéo plus lourdes, insistant sur l'importance d'un matériel accessible pour le public. Il a toujours combiné préoccupations sociales et artistiques. Enfin, il évoque deux films marquants : un film sur le mouvement lycéen et "La Chine à visage humain", un documentaire réalisé après un voyage en Chine en tant que représentant de la jeunesse communiste. Il conclut en insistant sur l'importance de faire des films authentiques, au-delà d'un simple regard d'auteur.

Il évoque son expérience de tournage en Chine, décrivant la nostalgie et le plaisir qu'il éprouvait à utiliser le Super 8, comparé à un gros crayon. Il se rappelle de la Chine post-Mao avec ses contrastes entre les villes émergentes et les campagnes pauvres. Il mentionne le peu de présence de personnes blanches à cette époque et comment les habitants réagissaient à sa présence. Il parle aussi de son style de tournage, préférant capturer des scènes de la vie quotidienne plutôt que des réunions formelles. Il se souvient d'avoir filmé des bicyclettes, des accidents, et des trains avec des étoiles rouges, tout en soulignant l'intérêt de capturer des scènes authentiques. Discussion sur la durée de son séjour en Chine, qui était d'environ 12 jours à 3 semaines, quand il avait 28 ans. Il précise qu'il a financé son film lui-même, avec peut-être un léger soutien de la Jeunesse communiste. Il parle aussi du processus de montage, évoquant comment il a appris à utiliser l'ellipse pour donner du rythme à ses films. Il aime le montage, mais préfère être présent aux côtés du monteur plutôt que de le faire seul. Enfin, il exprime sa frustration face à l'écriture de scénarios, préférant tourner plutôt que de passer trop de temps à écrire. Il souligne son envie de continuer à filmer, même bénévolement, et sa réticence à se considérer comme un auteur au sens traditionnel.