According to Parham Ghalamdar, the director of The Sight is a Wound, this video-poem is a haunting meditation on the collapse of imagery in the face of modern atrocities. It is about Palestine. It is about Gaza. It is about genocide. It is about silence, and about the limits of representation when reality exceeds every possible frame. It asks what it means to make images in a time when images themselves feel morally insufficient, when witnessing turns into endless circulation, and when seeing no longer guarantees responsibility.

And in these days, when so many of us sit comfortably in our safe spaces, delivering grand statements over spectacular scenes and speaking with certainty, we refuse that posture. We will not pretend to offer another definitive commentary on the genocide and war in Palestine, nor on the world’s descent into a grotesquely corrupted order. The problem is not that nothing can be done beyond words. The problem is that, despite everything that can be done, we continue to speak as if words alone were enough — and then do nothing. There are countless forms of action available to us, yet we too often choose the safety of rhetoric over the risk of responsibility.

p.s.: When I say “we,” I do not speak from a position of authority, nor do I claim to represent everyone. This “we” begins as something personal — a refusal that is mine. Yet it is not mine alone. It echoes in conversations, in shared discomfort, in the quiet recognition of others who feel the same dissonance. In that sense, this “we” is not a singular voice but a gathering — not an individual, but a collective in formation.