The Star of David is made up of two triangles. Before I learned how to draw one triangle I learned how to draw two of them on top of each other. I was probably very proud of myself for being able to produce such a significant geometrical form.
Watching the woman tearing up the Israeli flag at the Brussels memorial I remembered myself drawing basic shapes, I remembered the set of white and blue clothes I wore for a holiday. The other kids wore them too. Moments of small or shared happiness came in a flash before I could separate them from the abused piece of fabric. But she was most definitely not thinking of them or of me at all because for her this flag represents nothing but all the evil in this world and so much loathing from deep inside. Watching her I could feel a fraction of it, burning in my blood, pulling me into a darkness I can’t even imagine. But it has to be much worst to make you tear up the material. It must be so firm and dominant until you don’t really feel it.
I would be lying if I said I never wanted to rip something apart. Unfortunately or fortunately, most of the time it doesn’t have a physical form. I keep in mind that the satisfaction in tearing the smallest piece of paper might lead me to never stop tearing things. For sure at some point, I will ravage something or someone I didn’t mean to harm.