As a woman, I have no country. As a woman, I want no country. As a woman, my country is the whole world.

A woman is waving the white flag, a white hat, a white cloth as instructed—and yet, it means nothing. Today, mothers are not merely dying as in the famous sentence by Camus that outraged us so much in our youth: Aujourd'hui, maman est morte. Today, mothers are being killed with white flags in their hands—Aujourd'hui, maman a été tuée. When the meanings of symbols are lost, reality and hope crumble into pieces. There is nothing left to rely on.


What if we followed Virginia Woolf on her journey toward becoming human beings who need no flags at all? Human beings who tend and befriend rather than fight or flight, who build their reality on shared similarities rather than opposites? What if we followed Mierle Laderman Ukeles, trusting the power of maintenance and care as the antithesis of the omnipresent, celebrated culture of violence? Repair and creation against destruction.


Here, peace becomes a space between two white flags—a space where the dream of mundane life, with its small shared tasks and pleasures, stretches continuously from both sides as one unified text. A space for dialogue, built between two white cloths, gently conversing with almost invisible words.


i wish there was more laundry to do, more dishes to clean, more plants to let grow as they wish,

more paths to sweep and walk upon, more nails to paint after we’ve washed our toes, i wish