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.

Jinane Yahia, geboren in 2012, woont in Anderlecht, heeft Marokkaanse roots. Zit in het eerste middelbaar in La Plume in Molenbeek. Ze houdt van Brussel, maar vindt de straten en soms ook de huizen vuil.

Bij Brussel denkt ze aan het Atomium en aan het vroegere Océade, wil graag eens naar het Chocolademuseum gaan. Belangrijke momenten in het jaar zijn voor haar de Ramadan en Eid en ze wil graag mee weten over de andere godsdiensten..

Haar vragen aan de toekomst gaan over betaalbaarheid, of ze in Frankrijk zou gaan studeren later, over overbodige wetten, over sprays die alle mensen in de metro goed doen ruiken, over betere huizen, beter beleid voor de mensen, daklozen.

Jean-Paul Mathelot, geboren in 1950 in Duitsland, zijn papa was militair, heeft Belgische roots, woont 40 jaar in Ukkel en is gepensioneerd. Hij was journalist en lesgever, maar nu tijdens zijn pensioen is hij nog leraar talen. Houdt van joggen, maar moet zich steeds verder verplaatsen voor een bos en heeft ook heel wat kastelen zien verdwijnen .

Brussel is voor hem de rijke diversiteit van de wijken, ook binnen elke gemeente. Wat veel invloed had op Brussel is voor hem Expo 58, de Noord-Zuid verbinding, de Europawijk en de gentrificatie van verschillende delen van Brussel, maar ook het steeds multicultureler en meertaliger worden van Brussel en daarmee gepaard gaand ook de openheid.

Zijn vragen aan de toekomst gaan over technologie en de stad, geluid en verkeer, netheid en politiek.

Ritaye Yahia, geboren in 2019, woont in Anderlecht, heeft Marokkaanse roots. Ze heeft drie zussen en een broer en een kat en een hond. Ze gaat graag naar de bioscoop, naar het zwembad en naar het strand. Als ze groot is wil ze nog steeds in Brussel wonen. Houdt van tekenen en kleuren, een roze suikerspin op de kermis en van druiven.