Tuesday, 15 September 2015

A Society Of Hypocritical Customs.

       There are those among us who will never yield to authority, not to its faintest  odour, nor to its harshest lash of the whip, they will never bend their knee to the subtle seduction, nor the merciless brutality of authority. To them, we weaker mortals must pay homage, and lend our solidarity when and where ever we can. They are the ones who forge that unknown arduous path to the world in our hearts, who lay the foundation stones of that better world. We owe them.
Greece: “From the land of the forgotten against oblivion…” by Olga Ekonomidou
     “I do not need, nor do I want your discipline. With regards to my experiences, I want to have them for myself. It is from them, and not from you, that I will draw my rules of conduct. I want to live my own life. Slaves and lackeys terrify me. I hate those who dominate, and those who let themselves be dominated sicken me. He who bends before the whip is worth no more than he who wields it. I love danger, and the unknown, the uncertain, seduces me. I’m filled with a desire for adventure, and I don’t give a damn for success. I hate your society of bureaucrats and administrators, millionaires and beggars. I don’t want to adapt to your hypocritical customs nor to your false courtesies. I want to live out my enthusiasms in the pure, fresh air of freedom. Your streets, drafted according to plan, torture my gaze, and your uniform buildings make the blood in my veins boil with impatience. And that’s enough for me. I’m going to follow my own path, according to my passions, changing myself ceaselessly, and I don’t want to be the same tomorrow as I am today. I stroll along and I don’t let my wings be clipped by the scissors of any one person. I share none of your moralism. I am going forth, eternally passionate and burning with the desire to give myself to the world, to the first real person that approaches me, to the ragged trousered traveler, but never to the grave and conceited wise-men who would regulate the length of my stride. Nor to the doctrinaire who would like to clutter my mind with formulas and rules. I am no intellectual; I am a human being — a woman who feels a great vibration within herself before the impulses of nature and amorous words. I hate every chain, every hindrance; I love to walk along, nude, letting my flesh be caressed by the rays of the voluptuous sun. And, oh, old man! I will care so very little when your society breaks into a thousand pieces and I can finally live my life.”
-“Who are you, little girl, fascinating like a mystery and savage like instinct?”
-“I am Anarchy.”
- Emile Armand, French individualist anarchist
Olga Ekonomidou
member of CCF-FAI
Women’s prison of Korydallos
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