Its like turning back the pages to communist Russia with Orwellian overtones. Legally, the state is supposed to indemnify victims and their families of terror attacks. However, what is classified as a terror incidents is decided arbitrarily in the way the state saves money and the security forces statistics are enhanced in fighting terrorism. The victims simply disappear off the books, like photos of ex-Communist party members being photo-shopped out of historical photographs. Scrubbed from memory. …”No more to say, and nothing to weep for but the Beings in the Dream, trapped in its disappearance,”…
---Primo Levi: Witness Drawing,1988 (detail) Pencil and color pencil on paper 26 1/2 x 28 1/2 River's drawing suggests the difficulty for survivors to tell their story of survival, given the unbelievability of the event. The artist is also suggesting the indelible images that cannot be removed from the survivor's mind-the massive death of Jewish children, and the omnipresent chimney of the crematorium.---Read More:http://chgs.umn.edu/museum/exhibitions/witnessLeg/empathizers/rivers/
…The sons of George Sa’ado, a Bezeq phone company employee who was murdered last week in Ramle, a city midway between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, are not buying the police’s definition of the crime as non-nationalist.
Their father was murdered by Arabs because he was a Jew, they told Arutz Sheva.The claim by police and the mayor of Ramleh, that the murder was an ordinary criminal event, like any gang fight or drug related incident, causes them great pain….
So, people who perish in Bonnie and Clyde style death have their demise labeled as “careless driving” or “driver error” or the mundane “traffic accident” , “mistaken identity” or a bullet riddled vehicle incident is termed a “suicide.” Its part of keeping the peace?
---When they returned to New York in 1951, the art scene had changed — Abstract Expressionism was in, figuration was out. It made no difference to Mr. Levine. “I come of people who do not even acknowledge Jesus Christ,” he has said. “Why am I supposed to acknowledge Abstract Expressionism?” Instead he continued his social critiques, painting prisoners in Spanish jails, protesters in Birmingham, arms brokers and, after repeated visits to Israel, new series of sages and biblical scenes. “I couldn’t lie down and die when this kind of avant-garde thing hit,” he says. “I had to make a life for myself.” Read more: http://www.forward.com/articles/133030/a-child-of-daumier-confronts-the-s/#ixzz1pYo13LYy---
“The neighbor saw him and asked ‘what happened, George?’, Noi told Arutz Sheva. “He said ‘I’ve been shot.’ [The neighbor] asked: ‘Who shot you? You’re such a good person, who could do that?’ He said: ‘They said it was because of the situation in Gaza and shot me.’” “The state has an interest in saying it was criminally motivated so they do not have to spend money on compensating terror victims,” explained Naor. “Mayor Yoel Lavi also wants to keep it criminal so people do not say that there is terror here. Everyone has an interest. But the truth is my father’s last words.”
Noi noted: “A man will not walk 500 meters after he’s been shot and think of what he is going to say when he sees people. It is the truth that came out.” The suspected shooters are youths from the Arab Jarushi crime clan that resides in Ramle. Read More:http://www.israelnationalnews.com/News/News.aspx/150012
ADDENDUM: ( Allen Ginsberg, Kaddish)
Strange now to think of you, gone without corsets & eyes, while I walk on
the sunny pavement of Greenwich Village.
downtown Manhattan, clear winter noon, and I’ve been up all night, talking,
talking, reading the Kaddish aloud, listening to Ray Charles blues
shout blind on the phonograph
the rhythm the rhythm–and your memory in my head three years after–
And read Adonais’ last triumphant stanzas aloud–wept, realizing
how we suffer–
And how Death is that remedy all singers dream of, sing, remember,
prophesy as in the Hebrew Anthem, or the Buddhist Book of An-
swers–and my own imagination of a withered leaf–at dawn–
Dreaming back thru life, Your time–and mine accelerating toward Apoca-
lypse,
the final moment–the flower burning in the Day–and what comes after,
looking back on the mind itself that saw an American city
a flash away, and the great dream of Me or China, or you and a phantom
Russia, or a crumpled bed that never existed–
like a poem in the dark–escaped back to Oblivion–
No more to say, and nothing to weep for but the Beings in the Dream,
trapped in its disappearance,
sighing, screaming with it, buying and selling pieces of phantom, worship-
ping each other,
lasts, a Vision–anything more?
It leaps about me, as I go out and walk the street, look back over my shoulder,
Seventh Avenue, the battlements of window office buildings shoul-
dering each other high, under a cloud, tall as the sky an instant–and
the sky above–an old blue place….
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