From Hommodolars Contrainformación via Culmine translated by This is Our Job
December 19, 2009
Dear Diego,
The complicity and affection awakened in me by your letters (communiqués) from underground is inspiring me to write these words. Not just your letters, but your rebellious attitude in a world/society that becomes more uniform and submissive every day . . .
The smell of the air in prison is nothing unusual; prison generally smells like cheap disinfectant, rancid tobacco, and the nauseating sweat of some “piglets” who are allergic to soap or showering.
The only ones here who “perfume” themselves are the guards, social workers, psychologists, and priests. We prisoners are forbidden to “perfume” ourselves, I imagine for reasons of “conformity” or “security.”
Fortunately, the fresh air and the rain (still) know nothing of prohibitions, and that’s why―for one hour each day―I can feel them enter my asthmatic lungs, causing a delicious tickling sensation . . .
Apart from the rain and the fresh air, prison is no more than an architectural construct designed to discipline and control the movements/existences of those taken captive by prison society . . .
The only pleasant smell in prison comes from the little brothers and sisters who come to see us, or when everything buns in the fire of a riot. How beautiful, comrade! The smell of the burning mattresses, the smoke filling the cell blocks, the “perfumed ones” terrified and “imprisoned” (what a paradox . . .), and the freed prisoners writing banners, securing positions, turning each tool into a weapon and each burning object into a “Molotov” . . .
Insurrection is beautiful when it breaks out. It is uncontrollable (like freedom) and subversive. In those moments, the prisoner is not a prisoner, and the consequences mean shit.
No matter how long it lasts, insurrection is something that remains etched in fire on the soul. The beatings, the torture, the isolation, the vindictive destruction of your things (photos, letters, books, clothing, etc.) will always be the bitter consequences of defeat, but the images, moments, sounds, and smells of insurrection will accompany you for life . . .
Their system of discipline and control, their administration of torture and slow death will stay on its feet as long they are able to divide us with “privileges and punishments” (like out there), but not when we are united and totally determined.
Other things we experience during insurrectional rebellion are the ties between rebels, the friendships that usually last all your life.
Cast those stereotypical images of prison out of your mind, compa, and―with subversive pleasure―discover freedom (which is nothing other than insurrection) . . .
By losing our fear (which has contaminated us since we were “little ones,” and especially as “adults”), we become great and free, and that is much more than any of them (jailers and politicians) are willing to “tolerate” from prisoners and “citizens” . . .
Let’s be insufferable and subversive!
From the dungeons of northern Europe, a freedom-filled embrace for you, Diego . . .
- Gabriel Pombo Da Silva, Aachen, 26.11.09
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