Behind the walls, August 6, 2019

It was never the hammers in the trunk of the car, as much as the new world in the heart, that scares them and that is why I write today from a cell.

After being arrested in Paris on the eve of May 1 and spending three months in detention, orchestrated by the hunting grounds, the prosecutor who accuses, the judge who questions and the press that condemns, the possibility of my release has been canceled by the prosecutor because he thinks there is a risk of recidivism and because of my determination not to give up. They expect me to say that I accept that violence belongs to them, to condemn before their pressure the actions of comrades and the riots. They ask me about what I have in my head, and if I refuse to answer it is due to what lives in my heart.

The prosecutor explains that the guarantees offered for my release on “liberty” under judicial control do not ensure an environment that could “de-radicalize me” and that is why I must remain in prison.

And I wonder how it is that this being the place where the massacres of the State and its servants, of capitalism and its ravages so clearly manifest, how is it that one of the visible faces of its violence could make me stop dreaming of its complete destruction.

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