All of this upheaval in Egypt that I read about, hear about, seems absolutely incomprehensible and absolutely comprehensible at once. I feel I’m with them and not, so far and right here.
In a magazine, I come upon this fragment written by Roland Barthes in 1977: « Each of us has his own rhythm of suffering. »
Yes, that’s why we both know and don’t know the other’s pain. We’re each breathing our own breaths. But we’re all breathing the same air, together, in and out one by one.
The multitudes are joining as one in Cairo tonight. May they continue to breathe together, not losing sight of each other.
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