Yassin Al-Zubaidi - Prepared Angela Kosta
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Yassin Al-Zubaidi - Iraq
"Nightingales and songs for a cradle that never takes shape"
I thought of bringing her nightingales to drive away the loneliness from her.
When I was looking at a cage hanging at the front of a shop full of nightingales, that idea came to me.
With its cheerful colors and its noise that resembles the noise of a child, perhaps I can make her forget her stagnant, coagulated reality. The shop owner noticed my standing, which he found unjustified, and I noticed his displeasure. I left the place and went to the shade and started writing her a message telling her that I saw a group of nightingales and remembered them. I hesitated to write the message because I was certain that she could interpret what I was saying.
She realizes that I might be talking about beautiful, wonderful nightingales, and by that I mean a child who has been long awaited.
And so for the rest of my conversations that are good at fathoming their depths and seeing their deep, hidden meanings..
I hid my mobile in my pocket and began to watch the movement of the passerby, hearing the noise of people as they shop and the voices of the vendors who restore the value of their worn-out goods. That panorama produced many questions from my observations of it, questions that made me feel the triviality and futility of the world.
The sight of the cage in which amazing nightingales were imprisoned returned to my mind to make sure that those nightingales could offer nothing in the face of their old, deep-rooted sadness and grief.. And I felt my inability to create something that could fill the empty spaces or light up the oppressive darkness.
After I finished some work and belongings, I went back to the house whose image of sadness never leaves my mind even when I am outside it. I returned carrying a birthday gift. The gift was a cradle topped with colorful bells and stuffed nightingales. There was a doll inside it of a smiling child.
Prepared Angela Kosta
