By Patrick La Roque
I’m using the title of this post as a direct response to Bert’s Now What? And while I’m at it, let me also echo his appreciation of the work some of you shared on Instagram during the #kage202202 project: you folks do indeed rock. Thank you.
But my god, what a loaded, impossibly difficult question to answer. Because we’re still mostly stumbling in the dark, aren’t we? I did my first maskless shoot in almost three years a few weeks ago, and I was stunned by how emotional that was. I felt a weight lifted that I didn’t even know I’d been carrying. I’ve always been fully on-board with measures surrounding COVID-19, especially mask-wearing which is just, basic, elementary and beyond obvious. It’s an airborne virus. We wash our hands before dinner too, FFS.
And yet here I was.
As I stood there with strangers, watching their mouths and lips and smiles, listening to unmuffled voices, shooting the breeze without care, the memories flooded back: this is normal, this is what we do. We are social animals. We exist in packs and feed on the warmth, breath, and oscillations of others. I’d even argue that, for the most solitary among us, disconnection is only possible because we’re secure in the knowledge of others, out there, within reach. Anything else is a void, not a choice. So what I felt there, I think, was hope.
And then Russian forces bombed a maternity hospital.
I use the word “force” because I refuse to believe this is the Russian people’s war. It is a war of old, cruel men with blackened hearts, grasping at the vestiges of a savage century. A roomful of tyrants with the unfortunate power to destroy the world. Wait, what was my point again? Ah, yes: that I don’t know. That I Don’t. Fucking. Know.
Other than we must go on, and dig the earth and pull at the stars and do everything in our power to shine, shine, shine. One image, one song, one story at a time.
This is the torch we wield in the night.
And its flame should burn.
