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Fake Summer - B Side

Friday, May 3, 2019
32 minutes

Hey guys, all the pictures we take remind us to forget the past. Have you already said goodbye to the discreet charm of old telephone tokens, to the pleasure to write and receive postcards, to the unique taste of a moka coffee, to the deep satisfaction of wearing a pair of worn out sneakers, to the footprints left behind by a pack of stray dogs running on the sand? Blue dead memories they are, because blue is the colour of silence, blue is the flow of time, blue are my words tonight. I’m ready to become a dead memory too. But, before you start to forget about me, I still have something to tell you.

 

We grew up playing in the streets, showing up at the door unannounced, riding bikes like wild horses on the pavements, smoking weed while sitting on a seesaw at night. Our middle class families, our teachers at school, all the lies and the promises, and the need to run away from everything to find ourselves elsewhere. Faraway from what we were expected to do. We were fireworks, ready to explode in a rainbow of colours.

 

Maybe you think I’m just nostalgic, talking about old good times, but you’re wrong. I don’t regret the past. The old days weren’t that good. We have been fucked over by globalization, our protests have been repressed in blood and our world gradually destroyed. We learned that we had been lied to since the beginning. We learned that we couldn’t trust our country, our teachers, our families. There was no happy future waiting for us, it had already been stolen. We were alone.

 

The comforting smell of incense smoke, some glasses of wine, furniture catalogues to leaf through, the mass exodus of friends and classmates abroad, endless videocalls from distant countries, all the Christmas lunches and New Year Eve’s parties. One thousand ways to sweeten up the pill. One thousand pictures taken to celebrate all our fake summers. Sun, cocktails and smiles. We should be satisfied, we should be pacified. We aren’t, I’m sorry.

 

It’s time to go now. The revolution has began. Can you feel it? It’s in the air, people are back in the streets protesting against their governments, instead of sitting in front of a TV screen. This is quite an improvement. Let’s burn down the house, the parliament, the court, the corridors of power. Let’s warm the long winter of our discontent, let’s raise the dead poets, let’s sing the gentle song of the guillotine again and again. We are not tamed, we are not defeated, we are not dead. Here we are.