To wait is such a hopeful act..

I am currently going through some of the writings in the Journal of Narrative Politics, and I ran into this film in one of the issues, entitled “Letters for the city yet to come”.

I harbour an old fascination with AbdouMaliq Simone’s “the city yet to come”. A fascination with the phrase actually, and all the possibility that lies in a book entitled with it. It intensified because for several years after I heard of the book and saw Simone speak (perform?) , I never had a chance through which I could actually access the book. So I never read it, except in fragments, and scanned pages and chapters.

There is such power in expecting a city to come ,  around a corner, and to keep it a futurity, a horizon, as something we would once encounter unfurling, after making, unmaking, and remaking.

I quite liked these letters, one of them reminded me of a friend I know, who writes letters to his future children, and who also rethinks the boundaries of disciplines and alternatives of pedagogy, the eternal student, who never registers for a degree.