… If there’s one thing I’m sure I can do right it is drumming. It’s a plateau for legs that were promised the world, and now await their father’s cooking to be done with. I’m quite hungry, and frustrated at being hungry. Though I know the value of hunger. The weight of hunger.
Destroyer of worlds and builder of others. Down with Aztec temples and up with Walmarts. It is the lack that is born and is to be satisfied throughout the day. Perhaps giving one hope that greater voids can also be filled. But stomachs are popping up fast, and with that the intricacy of conveyor belts and the relentless nefariousness of brands. But Hunger is the ultimate cure for laziness. We’d all be less active, more dull, less fit without it. Art would thrive, but only bad art. For art is an expression of hunger, born from a hunger for expression, hunger for understanding, peace, love, fame, publicity… acknowledgement. I don’t have a visa, but this painting exists. I don’t have a job, but ink is forever. I’m a skinny unemployed Arab liberal arts graduate to some, and loving deity of two-dimensional realms to my many flat offspring.
As hunger reminds us that we are not eternal, the result is art: Ink, paint, records, that are longer lasting. Perhaps eternal if enough soul has been poured into their making.
And now I must fill out a job application…
Toufic Sarieddine is a regional intern at the World Youth Alliance Middle East.
