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God Granted Me 1,295 Weeks of Patience2026
Their first encounter was marked by violence and their existence together was carried on by dint of a great array of bayonets and cannons.
- F. Fanon
The desire to commit violence upon another in the best of circumstances must be forged by repeated transgressions and humiliations.
When is something worth dying for? How do you know when you’re ready to die for it? It is too late to have a change of heart when the soldiers have their fingers pressed to cool aluminum triggers.
In 1973, Khalid Al‐Jawari, a Palestinian-Iraqi man with links to the Black September Organization, planted three car bombs around New York City. Through a combination of luck (or misfortune), none of the explosives went off as planned: there were no fireballs on Fifth Avenue. Though Al-Jawari was never able to live in Palestine, he gave up his future to strike back at those who oppressed his countrymen. He sacrificed his future for the love of an idea, a figment formed by years of oral traditions of loss and yearning and stories of a grand victory to come.
What does it mean to die for the swearing bastards? To die for the stench of piss and raw sewage? What does it mean to fight for paved sidewalks?
When ideas of a glorious struggle for the homeland (and by proxy dreams of a glorious death in the name of the homeland) are translated into dirt and rock, trash and prejudice, bullets and blood; the romance of death can be strained.
Or, it can be sharpened to a deep and true love.
This body of work documents the scenes and places that have moved so many to fight for so much.