I Can’t Breathe.. Please, I Can’t Breathe | I’m Writing Until George Breathes.

The world is waking up from the sugar of what 'no eye has seen nor heard', after the coercion of the tawari and disappearance in this strange year, and while his family is not interested in the world and what is in it, between a cautious hope that the 'end' will be announced with a serum that frees humanity from the pandemic of the coronavirus or a divine miracle, and a rebel who is jealous of waiting and the confusion of the solution people decided to write it - the end - and 'free' himself even for a while. As we are preoccupied with ourselves and what is coming from new 'beginnings', the front pages of newspapers and websites around the world — perhaps for the first time since the beginning of this ordeal — have been news that our world is never changing: a very cold and scary place.

_{[ The George Floyd mural outside Cup Foods at Chicago Ave and E 38th St in Minneapolis, Minnesota | Wikimedia Commons ; CC BY-SA 2.0 ]}

You've probably heard or may have seen the video showing African-American man George Floyd on his stomach begging for a breathless voice of his white police man and begging him in words that have now become the emblem of the greatest gift in the United States since the assassination of Martin Luther King in 1968, if not as far and more complex as all things in time.

Floyd muttered:

_{'... I can't breathe.. Please, I can't breathe.'}

Literally, his voice choked, and the terrible howling, which was captured by the phone lenses of passers-by disappeared between a pleaded man, an angry and unbelievable.

Floyd's neck was crushed and the policeman's knee remained perched on it for minutes, and it seemed too long, until the 'paramedics' came and rolled him on a conveyor bed, just as the sheep were carried after being slaughtered in a view added to the economic of death and the blatant lyrical violence that may change its heroes in shapes, colors and tongues, and it remains constant, always reminding us that human nature is predominantly of its character, and that certain pandemics such as racism have no serum and no medicine. It is enough to have justification and cover, and to ignore it or to collude with the eyes of the referee and the censor.

This sad event adds to a long list of contemporary visual theorizing that would not have reached us without the communication techniques that are out of the hands of institutions, which allow the citizen and the public to produce information and lead self-driving 'change', reminding us once again that we have entered since the mid-2000s Twenty-first is a new social and cultural system/No-system, which keeps producing parallel elites and a virtual public opinion that is influenced and affects horizontally, in which the individual automatically dissolves into the crowd and derives his legitimacy from the idea of credibility. That this individual represents in exchange for the credibility of the institution (regimes, parties, the media..) which has proved successive disappointments and caused by the fiasco in countries like the United States in the face of the pandemic of this time - I said these disappointments proved the weakness of this credibility or Even the lack of it, becoming a gift, revolution or protest in the United States today, as it was in the Middle East yesterday, is both the means and the end, and an attempt by the individual to take away his right to export, produce and lead because he is the sole owner, at least circumstantially, for this credibility.

Let's go back a little bit back to 2006, when the famous Time magazine picked 'You' as the character of the year, putting it on the cover of its December issue. Time picked up the advances of unprecedented power gained by the individual, describing it as a 'revolution that will change the way the world will change'

Time magazine has warned that you and I are no longer the same: passive recipient, stolid consumer and helpless audience. The devastating Hurricane Katrina had just passed over the west coast of North America, and before that it struck the most ferocious tsunami in East Asia. Media reporters could not document the events at the time because, like natural disasters, they came suddenly, and they merely documented the afterlife of the disaster. But the world will later be able to see the horror of these scary moments as the survivors captured them through their mobile phones and digital cameras, to view their home videos on a flooded youTube site that had not yet completed its first year. The traditional media, which viewed this new media as an aura and unprofessional, soon received that content and fed its reports to give its speech more popular credibility.

This interaction and friction between the knowledge produced by institutions and those produced by individuals has produced unprecedented patterns of awareness, thought and practice within human society, on the one hand, optimists are heralding an era of impervious popular governance that does not compromise on their new acquired freedoms, and pessimists fear that the state of the new cultural, social and political system/no-system will turn into a state of cultural, social and political chaos that reaps to the green and the dry.

Far from those and these, from the recent or distant history and the techniques of communication and their impact on individuals or audiences, this article is first and foremost about the story of a man named George Floyd, similar to many other stories of members of the Rohingya, Uighur and children of immigrants in Europe who are trapped in isolated communities on the outskirts of the city, the stories of strangers in their occupied and displaced countries who are forcibly abandoned, and by strangers in their own country for nothing more than because they resemble them.

Endless stories of abhorrent racism of the invisible of color, religion, tongue, sex or 'wrong' nationality. Narrow and tribal nervousness seems out of time and history to knock on our door or knock on its door. It is also a story of power, law and human dignity and everyone's relationship with the power and eloquence of the word/free image.

I know George by name because a passer-by take his phone and filmed the evidence of his assault, and then decided without going back to an editor or a publishing director to upload the content on his page or channel so that the world would know what had happened. And I'm writing until George breathes.