Golden Hour #034: just keep your eyes on the game
weeding with my daughter
The bulbs are coming up and the bombs are still coming down and what is there left to say? What would I say to David Lammy if I bumped into him on the street? Would I be friendly and warm in the way people are when they bump into an old boss? Would I berate him and beg him to do more? What does it mean to interact with humans when their failings are so evident? When the stench of death rises with their polling numbers? I do not know the answers to these questions.
And yet I know this. That words still matter. That a sustainable ceasefire is an oxymoron made up by morons who want to distract us from their hypocrisy. That we must be honest with our language and words now more than ever, and we must explain to others who do not understand how phrases are invented and co-opted and peddled between Washington and Westminster to justify the unthinkable. Children hanging like pigs in a slaughterhouse. A ten-year-old with their large intestine spewing out of them. A six-year-old dying after an ambulance was blown up trying to rescue her. A popstar flies to watch a football game, and the crowds go wild.
Just keep your eyes on the game.
Yesterday my daughter helped me with some weeding. She held out her bucket as I pulled up the plants and then transferred the muddy contents into a wheelbarrow. We were clearing the way for a bed of tulips to emerge from their hibernation. But she does not know this yet. There are so many things she does not yet understand, but that doesn’t stop her from doing the Right Thing. It doesn’t stop her from using her gentle hands when we look after the neighbour’s baby. It doesn’t stop her from giving a toy to her friend who is crying because they feel sad. It doesn’t stop her from clearing the weeds that will stunt the flowers if we leave them to grow.
Starmer understood what was to come, and I think it is this that grieves me most of all. He knew what would happen to the people of Gaza and yet he looked the other way when it mattered most of all. And now his words ring hollow as the inevitable consequences of his actions are realised.
Even a child knows right from wrong.
This is truly brilliant Grace. I wish it wasn't, I wish it didn't exist, I wish it didn't have to exist. I have no idea either right now, just keep on making my silly art and consuming other peoples' and I have resigned my labour party membership because, conscience.
Yes you are so right 💔😢. They knew what would likely happen & now in the final chapter they start talking about a “sustainable” ceasefire, whatever that is, and asking the occupier politely to “think carefully” as if that will make any difference when the occupier is violating all of the legal demands made by the highest court on earth. Every day is the worst day. Thank you for your writing Grace x