Doors are amongst the oldest metaphors. They have encouraged people, they have inspired them, they have showed them ways and they have freed them through Literature and Art but they have this metaphorical use and meaning when they are opened. Closing them equals the death of this metaphor. Many of us need the doors in front of us to be opened. Many of us are waiting to be cuddled by that compassionate metaphor.
Many refugees come to Europe every day. Most are Syrian or Afghan. Afghans have been bearing the scars of pain and suffering for years. They are the children of pain. Even the word “Afghan” is a proof of this claim. It means scream. The scream which is stuck in throats of thousands of them but can be seen in their silent and patient looks, their eye whisper a wounded history if you listen to them. ‘Ghodratollah’ is one of them, smart with high spirits for learning, enthusiasm. He hasn’t had the chance to finish school and graduate in Afghanistan but he is truly talented and he learns fast. When I think of his talent I wish he could live like any other free individual, I wish he could reach his goals getting the least support he needs: to be accepted as a free individual.
And yet I’m not hopeless; for I’m sure there are many people here who think the same, many who will never put out the flame of hope in his pensive but reflective eyes, many who will shake his hard working hand. Above all and as a matter of fact these are my doors, waiting for compassionate hands to open them… Exactly like the door of Fine arts academy, which opened by my professor Gunter Damisch to me and it changed my life…
Special thanks to: