Archives for category: INTERROGATIONS

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WHAT HAPPENS IF WE LOSE HOPE?

Optimist: We take a deep breath, compose ourselves, and find it again, the tiniest piece is all we need!

Pessimist: We weren’t entirely sure that it wasn’t delusional in the first place.

Realist: Hope doesn’t make things happen, action does. It will unfold the way it unfolds, regardless.

HOW DO WE LOSE HOPE?

Optimist: It isn’t ever lost, we just can’t always see it clearly.

Pessimist: We try not to rely on it too readily… it can be disappointing.

Realist: Did we actually really need it?

WHAT DO YOU HOPE FOR?

Optimist: To always remain thankful, every day is a gift and hope is everywhere you look!

Pessimist: We don’t hope for anything, it only invites despair.

Realist: We don’t hope, we do.

Signing Out//*Gulp*//Identity Detective (England)

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Interrogation of music and literature connoisseur commenced 14/04/2015 16:26 ~~~

ARE YOU PREPARED FOR THE ULTIMATE QUESTION?

The ultimate question? What, you mean ‘What is the meaning of life?’

…NO

Because we already know the answer to that.

WAIT… WE DO?

Yes. 42.

…OH. 

I thought everyone knew that.

THANK YOU.

So this isn’t the Ultimate Question. Go on then, hit me with the ‘Almost’ Ultimate Question.

I’M SENSING SOME DERISION…

Nope.

OKEY DOKEY! NOW, WOULD YOU RATHER ONLY LISTEN TO MUSIC OR ONLY READ FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE?

…That’s honestly the hardest possible question you could ask me.

OH YES? …SPECIFY PLEASE?

No, I don’t like the options there.

IT’S HYPOTHETICAL, JUST GIVE IT A CONSIDERATION, THEN YOU CAN FORGET ABOUT IT.

Hmm. rather limiting isn’t it.

IS IT?

Rather like choosing between having arms or legs, yes.

BUT IN TERMS OF CREATIVE EXPLORATION AND EXPRESSION, I SEE WHAT YOU’RE GETTING AT.

Exactly.

…BUT HYPOTHETICALLY SPEAKING…

Agh… Fine. I would choose to read…

But I wouldn’t be happy about it!

AT LEAST A BOOK COULD DESCRIBE MUSIC, THAT’S SOMETHING ISN’T IT?

No no not at all! That would be torture if I couldn’t listen to the music it was about!

WELL WHY WOULD YOU CHOOSE TO READ THEN?

Probably because I can carry on learning if I can still read… music is mostly for funsies.

…FUNSIES?

Yes, funsies. Reading can be fun but really useful too.

VERY SUCCINCT. THANK YOU FOR YOUR CO-OPERATION.

Pffft. That wasn’t remotely enjoyable.

WELL IT HAS BEEN VERY USEFUL.

Hm.

ANYTHING ELSE YOU WOULD LIKE TO ADD? 

No, but do leave now, I’d like to forget that you suggested those kind of restrictions to my liberty at all.

RIGHT. 

…terrible.

…SIGNING OUT//IDENTITY DETECTIVE (ENGLAND)

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Interrogation techniques…

interrogation-techniques

Question: Are you a feminist?

Answer: OMG, no! Ieeee… feminism is a dirty word! To me it kind of sounds like fascism“

Question: „Do you believe that men and women should have equal rights?“

Answer:„Yes offcourse I do, DUUHHH!“

Signing out.//Identity Detective (Germany)

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MESSAGE RECEIVED 04:46 AM GMT

WHERE IS HOME?

INFORMANT 697353: Home is the dusty desk in the corner with wobbly screws (there was no screwdriver, I had to use scissors) where I sort and file my information at the end of each day. Home is where I cut open my head and let the facts dribble, slowly sorting itself into folders, labelled and stacked in the corner. In the corner of the staggering desk, in the corner of the dusty room. The next home is the musty hot bed – there are four corners and it is as far as possible from the corner containing the desk – where my day job tries to insipidly mangle my dreams. The protracted sleep I get in this bed is necessary, frustrating and sometimes inspiring. What didn’t dribble out at the end of the day sneaks out and lifts an eyelid, scores a memo in invisible ink and slops itself onto the floor to be picked up in the morning. Home is where I try to sort out what I do all day into the most tattered folder I own, why I do it.

I don’t know why I do it. You tell me.

END OF MESSAGE.

SIGNING OUT//IDENTITY DETECTIVE (ENGLAND)

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Received Yesterday 15:52, Sam:

The conversation came up on

one of those nights, between

my girlfriend and I. The

moment when you realise you

should have stopped drinking

and gone to bed several hours

ago had just arrived, and one of

the music videos we were

singing to and talking about

had led to the conversation

about our biggest fears.

She spoke about how she was

scared of her mother dying,

scared of her brother dying,

and scared for all of the people

in the world that need help. All

fair fears to have.

The conversation naturally

turned to my fears. Oddly, none

came to mind, but determined

not to look like a stereotypical

male who declares himself

fearless, I racked my brain until

at last it hit me, my big fear.

To give this some context, I am

genuinely not afraid of death, or

the death of my loved ones, We

are all, I believe, at terms with it.

Neither am I scared of time or

its unrelenting passing.That

said, there is a thought that

haunts and terrifies me. The

thought is simple – that one

day, I will wake up and I will be 

45 years old and I know I will

regret everything I did and

wonder about everything I

could’ve done, despite living a

good, and full life now. I know

on that day when I wake, it 

won’t make sense to me that

today’s today will be the

future’s yesterday. I won’t

understand why I woke up 45

years old, after falling asleep as

a 22 year old. I’m not worried I’ll

go through this alone, or in an

unhappy family, I am just 

disturbed by the inevitability of

it, and I try not to make it a self 

fulfilling prophecy but as we all

well know, fear, paranoia and

anxiety needs no reason.

Fear. The unknown. Can’t stop interrogation until more is revealed. More to come…

SIGHning out//Identity Detective ENGLAND

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CURRENT MISSION:

Detectives – Who are they?

Identity Detective, What do you look like?

what do you look like?

Where are you from?

where are you from 3

What keeps you awake?

what are you going to do tomorrow

Can you show us something you made yourself?

made yourself

What mystifies you?

baffles you

What are you going to do tomorrow?

tomorrow

Swinging out.//Identity Detective (Germany)

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Interview

What’s identity?

Mr.Beaver. My face, when I look in the mirror. Not only I know its me but also others recognize me seeing it.

Beaver Junior. Yeah? Not always. Once I got stopped by police and they saw the photo on my id card – i had long hair then and they said it’s not me! Why then you give these cards? I asked.

Mr. Turtle. Well. Identity is the inside and outside of being. Of yourself. The description of yourself. By yourself from inside and by
others from outside. But is it you?

Mr.B. Its identical. The same. But you never enter the same river. Right?

B.J. Yeah! I just cut my hair and the stupid policeman said it wasn’t me.

Mr. T. When you love someone and think about him or her you don’t think nor love id numbers or pictures. There’s something more. Identity is all you can name or point. A description. What’s beyond the words or images is true being…

Mr.B. …that doesn’t need calling. It’s been 25 years since I was last thinking about identity. I just don’t think about it
normally..everyday…

Mr.T. Maybe because it’s a part of unconsciousness. You don’t think of yourself all the time “Mr. Beaver”

B.J That would be crazy thinking of, or to myself in names, numbers, smells or other things. It’s just me.

Mr.B. I can recognize you from your smell from far far away. When did you last washed yourself?

Signing out. Secret Smells detective. (Spain)