The photograph captures white lines, vapour trails, crossing perpendicular in the afternoon Berlin sky. Somewhere north of the city, cameras are readied for the moment the orange sun dips beneath the horizon and a fresh, wintery temperature falls - instantly - over everything; over the white lake and its gravel path, over all the tiny cultivated and locked holiday gardens, over the still carparks of the peripheral retail outlets.
Today was one where three arcs crossed - firstly in a captivating radio documentary, then in an email, then in a Zizek article. Congo's troubles have fallen from the radar of world news recently, attempts at peace never make it that big, but there are still devastating rumours and realities that ought to keep the country - as big as Western Europe - at the forefront of agendas.
A summary here is futile, I know nothing, I am learnt. Instead read (tracked and archived SMS/blog submissions of incidents in DRC), or read (Ir2P Congo information and action), or read (Condition:Critical launches 20/11). Engaging with the actuality of the place however, with its histories, with its histories and its numbers - the largest conflict since WWII - cannot be done. There are those in need of sleep and shelter and food.
Instead all I offer are pathetic mediations on representation - what else is to be done but to read and inform oneself? Let us look at media obsessions and related projects. At what point do I decide to fuck all this - planes in blue skies, Europe's mild wintering - and decide to actually do something?