The return of Hisham Matar, a very personal reflection

​ Closure has always sounded safe to me. I always chased answers, even if it looked desperate. Moving on is synonymous to having that final talk or seeing the final picture. That's said, i can't imagine how much cruelty Hisham had to, and maybe continues to, witness because some people somewhere denied them that right. People give a lot of room to the idea of getting used to stuff, as in grief and confusion and rage can just fade away. I don't think they ever do. Maybe we try hard to push them into the background. But they will always be there, very evident, in the moments of silence. And as an adult, i came to realize that silence is where the majority of life fades into, between what can't be said and what can't be done. My heart goes to all people who have their families in such situations. You read Hisham's words about the revolution and you can't help but see hope as a sprouting rose. I wonder if, 15 years later, it's still the case for him. Maybe at the heat of it, his cousin's death felt meaningful. But with the current state of things in the middle east, i wonder if he is as hopeless as i am, maybe even doubting if it all happened, and not just an exaggeration made of our memories and our so desperate desire to change then.