事過方覺
After ALL
In 2021, after the second lockdown in France was lifted, I had the opportunity to participate in an exchange program at the Universität der Künste Berlin. It was there that I encountered Maiy. We were frequently the only people in the studio, a circumstance that greatly benefited our burgeoning friendship. The campus was subdued; its muted ambience and often uninhabited rooms suited us well. It seemed we stood on common ground in regard to our shared feelings of isolation and scepticism towards the status quo, among myriad other subjects. Each of us maintained a guarded demeanour, in no small part due to scars from our pasts.
This connection suddenly ceased to be on June 24, 2021. That night, I discovered Maiy’s body: she had taken her own life.
In an attempt to try to make some sort of sense of this, I began penning, ‘After All’—a reimagining of the latter of two therapy sessions that occurred a week after her death. The session portrayed takes place between the university’s courtyard and the aforementioned studio, featuring a fictionalised version of myself and the university-affiliated counsellor. Throughout, we tacitly observe three subjects—two present and one notably absent. The dialogue revolves around the incorporeal third, whose presence manifests itself only through the anecdotes of the student and the imprints Maiy left in the studio.
Beyond a mere cathartic conduit, the subtextual politics manifest. If we consider humanity to be a cohesive entity, then instances of suicide serve as an appalling indictment of our societal structures; with systems that more often than not forsake those on the fringes of absolute despair—the marginalised, the disenfranchised, and those purportedly ‘difficult’. How can those of us left to administer the sticking plasters come to terms with it? At the very least, we can acknowledge that far too often, we attempt to ‘normalise’ these jarring realities, conveniently slotting them into our established belief systems. Despite paying lip service to its value, individuality remains elusive.
No matter how much time marches forward, the fundamentals from that night seem eternally imprinted on my psyche; as if suspended in formaldehyde. I have thought at length as to where an intervention may have been possible, but I must admit that such hindsight is futile. And so I conclude – with the realisation that closure dithers in eternity.
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Le Fresnoy
International Distribution
Le Fresnoy | Natalia TREBIK