(a letter, a poem)
Here’s what I know about art: art is something we
(people) make. Decisions are something we (people) make as well. Edward Snowden
made some important decisions. Edward Snowden made some good decisions. But
what makes good art?
Unveiling. Deliberateness.
I am talking about art. I am talking about you,
too, Edward Snowden.
For your deliberateness may not save us but may
lead us toward something
we might call salvation.
We might also call it hope.
Traitors are those who do not love enough to
swallow themselves.
Traitors are those who do not speak the truth in
order to avoid living in airports.
Wikipedia offers me a list of people who have
lived in airports.
I would like to offer you, here, a list of what
your truth may make possible:
Difficulty,
that is to say, dialogue.
Refusal,
that is to say, recognition.
Absolution,
that is to say, absence of the absolute.
Your questions appear in the form of statements,
but they are questions nonetheless.
Your questions need not be answered so much as
repeated.
I would like, however, to answer one, here. You
say,
I do not expect to see
home again.
But you are home. You are always home. It just
that
the essence, the very being, of home
will
never be the same. Nonetheless
you are welcome. You are welcome here and
everywhere
that is the home you have helped make
possible.
This is not your end.
May you always be home.
PS: Also,
you have made the idea of
flying sexy again.
