Gather

Alexia PdC

22 Sep 2025 — 1 min read

Allow Me To Gather You, And Your Name

After Mahmoud Darwish

Allow me to know you, in my heart

As you know your land, your home, your love

Allow me to taste the joy of olives and watermelons grown with the care of a thousand ancestors

Allow me to feel rage at the relentlessness of those who seek to remove your bloodlines for their hotel complexes

Allow me to feel

In my belly

The horror of the British Empire

Which is mine to dismantle

Until it has no name

Written at Addy’s Corner, 11 Sept 2025 where we listened to Palestinian writers, poets and words. And discovered the deep overwhelming love.

Where are the words

When the air is wet and your hands are cold in your room Called to be in hibernation for three to four months The system denies that mammalian softness, as it tears all of us from our natural needs A candle burning on the slate hearth of my rented room

A letter from the empire to himself

I yearn to be less stubborn, and willing to see the possibilities beyond myself I am nearly 450 years old Dusty and tired in every pore, and yet Habits are hard to let go I am the largest empire of all time A quarter of the world’s land in

Hold the pose

Vogue, strike a pose. Shed your clothes. Hold for 10 minutes. Feel the slow burn. Scritch scritch, scratch. “10 minutes left” In the break I walk around the room slowly, taking in the many versions of myself. Held by the artists’ gaze, I am a powerful solid body, beautiful to

Maltese musings

A few short thoughts from the archipelago that is Malta. I had a good time, would recommend esp for spoonie rest. Malta, a place of many empires meeting melting mouthing “we were here, too” The British were last, carving out there ‘politeness’ into the limestone Mdina – Arabic for city – was

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Where are the words

A letter from the empire to himself

Hold the pose

Maltese musings