Je mérite de changer de gouffre

Published March 2027

We’re in the changing rooms of a boxing gym. Georges, Georges and the others are all called Georges; they’re mates, sort of. They’re getting ready for Tuesday’s training session and chatting about how their day went: ‘It was just like yesterday, for fuck’s sake!’ Georges often throws that word in at the end of sentences; he’s often angry.

‘Fuck’ is said loudly; it’s an exclamation, it’s idleness, it’s the combination of opposites. It’s a place, right there, hidden deep inside, where ethics and individualism knock each other out with left jabs. It’s political; it’s a reflection on powerlessness. The one against all. We’re going to explore this solitude.

Anger is a liberating outburst, a bulwark, a shield. It’s a crutch that provides enough energy to keep from sinking. The world is violent. Injustices are everywhere; they are societal, cultural and geographical, and we find them unbearable. 

It’s an abyss.

I deserve a change of abyss.