……. “[his] body had been recovered from a field and delivered to his family with earth in his clenched fists and mustard flowers growing from his fingers.”…….. (Arandhati Roy)

Grief is private. Grief is public.

In between these two spheres is a tangled relationship.
It is personal, it is universal, it is political.
One informs how we act in the face of the other.

(grève)
Can we stand on the sand long enough for the tide to come in and unsettle our footing?
Can our private grieving allow us to better join the dissent in the streets?

(i)
I come to grief and I am comforted.
I am given a door and the agency to open and close it at will.
I am accepted as a burden.

These are not true statements for everyone.

(eve)
What is built
from - with - into - through
grief?

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