in quiet rooms, the softest sounds

Basmat Wasl (Khartoum-based)

When the state failed, organisers from these communities built critical safety nets. This was done with your help. Last year, we raised $42,000 (USD) that went directly to community organisers from these communities. Now, we must do it again. Our current efforts are being channelled through a core group of trusted community groups: Tres Marias, Reman, Syrian Eyes and DoWAN. We are building community led solutions to a systemic collapse. We are calling for immediate financial and in kind donations to support emergency housing, healthcare access and basic survival needs.

"some concepts, some ideas are deeply insufficient for trying to contend with our world. all that matters is my attempt to repair the harm done"

Siddhartha Mukherjee, The Emperor Of All Maladies: A Biography Of Cancer 

"Why do you sing this old song when the soldiers are at our door?"

Are you afraid to have someone believe in you? Can you commit to your ideals? Even if you think nothing of it, are you willing to allow others to think the world of it, and of you? Pedagogue of Young Gods. All slavery ever does is free you. All anyone ever does is an example. All power is just collective energy. To abuse the privilege is to sell your soul and that is to rent with the illusion of owning. We are the landlords. If you misunderstand us, you’re dead and deserve your demise. Your dominion is your overthrow. The controllers are controlled. Spread the word, it will save you and depends on you to be understood. There is no school bell, only nursery. Our heroes reward us with stars, ever-still, ever-moving. We sing to ourselves in our cars. Music is our sanctuary. Anywhere you put it it’s ours. Our living voice, our living testament. We dream aloud, we scream and shout. Our courage will defeat them. Our struggle will unite us. Our wisdom is ourselves, our resources our own, our blood ocean, our skin oil. We are mountain and waterfall, they cannot contain us. Their prisons will not restrain us, their customs will not un-name us. We are what they know in their hearts, you guessed it, you knew that, you felt it, you tried to doubt it, denied it, but you knew it, ain’t nobody had to tell you. We had them from the start. A world apart, a world within, ancient and luminous. The before before and the hereafter. We are the essence of laughter. The comforting prayer and the gatekeepers and the street-sweepers. A mountain of ports outside of a city of dreams. A bird that prays, yet offers its wingspan to the wind. Things are not as they seem. We hover above while giving the appearance of scurrying below. All is as it should be. We are more than we know. More than we hoped and dreamed, a generation of generators, a power source and supply. The better we learn to live, the better we learn to die. Old as anything, old as everything, we are participants in a ritual older than our collective memory, a marriage of heart and mind, secular and divine. All is as it should be. Slavery carefully bred us. No child of Greece or Rome can behead us. We are ahead of our time. Slavery was simply a state of mind. Hip-hop reminded us of confidence. Overcoming now is simply common sense. You deserve the ice and the riches of Solomon. But don’t let warped values turn you into hollow men. Education is the only thing given that cannot be taken. Learn to think for yourself, analyze the forsaken. Pimp your fears, surrender to love, dance all night when you need to. Play this song for a thug, let ‘em know ain’t no judgment. We all hustle and grind, any system against us is against the divine. But there’s no sense of glory in repenting, and repeating, their mistakes. You have a greater calling. Answering it is all it takes. Take a second to hear this and go back about your day. Know that laws don’t govern us, we’re governed by what we say. What we think, why we think it, how we handle. Place no blame, point no fingers, take your aim. Shoot to kill. The bullshit.

Saul Williams - All Coltrane Solos at Once (Feat. Haleek Maul)

Three simple copper wires coiled around an orb Parked in an orbit Equatorial landmines, useful and precious metals Coltan as Cotton Coltan as Colton as Cotton Hack into whores Industrial, digital Hack into code Use your instrument as metaphor Hallowed to the ground, type into the mainframe Dismantle definition, dogma and duty Hack into the database Hold it in the subconscious The panel marked "survival" Hack into celebrity Hack into the cultural development of taste Hack into violence, fear, and ignorance How are they linked?

"My truth is encrypted. And yours is easy to read. So what do you need to know about me? That I continue to exist? I am the Martyr Loser King. You build walls but no FireWalls to protect you from those who burn like candles,  whose necks you can chop a million times but still burn bright and stand."

"There are legends of people born with the gift of making music so true, it can pierce the veil between life and death. Conjuring spirits from the past and the future." SINNERS (2025) dir. Ryan Coogler

embroidered ceramic vessel by caroline harrius