Leonardo Silva Reviewer's The American Pronunciation Guide Presents The American Pronunciation Guide Presents The American Pronunciation Guide What does a revolution look like? Can you stumble upon it when you open a cabinet at home? What if you encounter its image amongst your family photos? My research is about the box of photographs and I cannot remember seeing or having heard about this box for a first time. I also cannot conceive of the existence of a first time when I heard about a period between 1978 and 1987 that my father spent in former Czechoslovakia as a student of what I thought for many years to be electrotechnical engineering. This first time certainly did not come up as one of those casual moments when one simply recalls and shares a curiosity from the past. Nothing was casual and there was not a first time. As the exacting conditions for my very existence, born in Prague to a Czech mother, was precluded by a grant provided by the Czechoslovak Socialist State through the Portuguese Communist Party to my father and to many more. 1978 till 1987 was always a fact. The quick story of the unexpected chance, the hasty decision that had to be made, option 1 GDR, option 2 Czechoslovakia, option 3 Romania, has been there for as long as I can remember. But if the story and the fact escape my memory, a more detailed account, though fragmented, of the time spent in Prague, in Podgabradi, in Slovakia and travelling through Europe arrived much later, and with it the mention of a box of photos, and then, eventually, the photos themselves. a box of photos and then, eventually, the photos themselves. In 1978, my father, José Alberto, a Portuguese citizen like myself, left Lisbon to study technical cybernetics at the Czech Technical University in Prague. During the period in which he studied in former Czechoslovakia, in parallel to his main activity as a student, my father began to photograph on a fairly constant basis, enough to produce a substantial body of images and acquire a photographic practice that, to my knowledge, is unrivaled by those more circumstantial in other periods of his life up to the present time. For being a foreign citizen with the privilege of mobility, the photographs he took cover personal and political events in both countries. This state of unconditioned mobility also makes it now possible for me to throw a look at the material he produced and to engage in a transnational following of the first years after the Carnation revolution in Portugal on one side, as my father started photographing four years after it happened in April 1974, and the last years of the communist regime in Czechoslovakia on the other, as the photos were taken up until two years before the Velvet Revolution in 1989. My research is about the box of photographs. This statement serves the purpose of placing a decided focus on the existence of photographs as such, of placing a decided focus on the existence of photographs as such, on their material properties and from there to the material relations behind the interaction of the photographs with each other, between them and the other things that surround them, and ultimately also between the photographs and the subjects who interact with them. Although, according to my analysis, these photographs were shot without artistic intention, they were nevertheless taken with a strong sense of revolutionary political commitment, born of the direct and empowering lived experience of a historical event that resulted in major processes of social transformation. My father was 17 years old when the Carnation Revolution took place in Portugal. And, in his words, this event was not only responsible for his politicization, as it also radically changed the course of his personal life. It is this sense of commitment to the revolutionary cause which pierces my text transversally. A commitment in the sense of loyalty, but also in the dual sense of political engagement and emotional attachment. That acts as the driving force behind the story of effects, that lies behind the process of ideological projection of revolutionary euphoria into real socialism. This commitment conditions both the moments of image production and the moments of their reception. I'm carrying my research not only by identifying the motivations behind the production of the images and the different historical and political contexts conveyed in them, but also by identifying how particular narrative and reflexive possibilities are invoked by the way in which the material substrate of an archive, with the shoebox as its primary container, has been disorganized. In this sense, my project is as much about the photographs taken by my father as it is about the box in which they have been kept, as it is about the domestic environment in which they have been shared. It consists, on the one hand, from the point of view of my positioning as a research subject, of an autoethnographic exercise, and, on the other, from a methodological point of view, of an archaeological exercise through which I search for moments of overlap and interference across the different strata of ideological contexts that can be found in the photographs as the material support of the archive. The upcoming thoughts are orchestrated according to the following sequence of actions. Opening the box, rummaging through the photographs, looking at the photographs, following the connections established between them and those superimposed on them. a collection of photographs stored inside a shoebox into an archive where lived and transmitted experience is articulated with macro-political and historical processes. I write about the shoebox and the photographs. I present them as acting things and therefore approach them from the perspective of a thing theory and choose to start by using those approaches from social theory that are first and foremost occupied with material relations in order to be able to focus on the existence of these things, on the relations between them, and from this starting point begin to understand which operations are taking place in the interactions with them. In the sense that, as Bill Brown says, open citation, the story of objects asserting themselves as things is the story of a changed relation to the human subject, and thus the story of how the thing really names less an object than a particular subject-object relation. Close citation. Things are occasions of contingency, says Bill Brown. Open citation. They are occasions of contingency, the chance interruption that disclose a physicality of things. The shoebox in itself allows me to delve into the material and formal rules through which its content, the photographs, is and has been stored. Taking it in consideration as a very simple form of arc, a container that aggregates and preserves documents, but also as the vessel in which they are transferred to other subjects, which they are transferred to other subjects, the shoebox unveils the primary subject-object relation upon which the further theoretical construction about an archive and its operational mechanisms is based. In other words, searching for the moment before the archive is an archive, or more precisely before an archive is activated, serves the purpose of focusing on an analysis of which discursive possibilities are determined by the properties of its material substrate. I search for distance from what Arjuna Padurai calls a humanist perspective or a humanist imagination, in which he tells that, open citation, the archive lives not because of its own materiality, its paper, its textures, its dust, its files, its buildings, but because of the spirit which animates these materials, the spirit of pastness. Closing citation. My intention is to move away from this humanist perspective by coming closer to Derrida's Freudian idea of memory devices and the placing of hypognesic material at the center of the operational mechanism of archives Derrida comes back to the Greek distinction between neme and hypomnema the external memory devices, and states that the techniques of archivization are dependent of this making technical of memory. Claiming that, open citation, there is no archive without a place of consignation, without a technique of repetition, and without a certain exteriority. No archive without outside. Closing citation. And if it is also, as Derrida says, this material memory that starts rendering visible the multiplicity of contexts that result both from a multilayered inscription of history onto the individual and the individual's projection into history, or as I would call it, the process of privatization of history. I would like to go one step further by taking into account Apadurai's further statement, in which he claims that, open citation, one result of this Cartesian split in the humanist understanding of the archive is that it has produced a derivative split which is even less desirable, the split between memory and desire. It is upon this very premise that I place the question of who is the subject who interacts with things and I carried out an analysis of this interaction upon a theory of effects. I present you things in this exact order. Photographs, shoebox, camera and revolution. Being that the order of the first three things reflect the procedural and ellipses involved in my interaction with them as a researching subject. For me, the photographs exist as family memorabilia before they exist as the creative expression of the subject who took them. They exist as photographic impressions, paper rectangles curled into each other inside a box before they exist as a negative film, and the act of rummaging through the photos also exists before the act of pressing the shutter. Revolution coming at the end is transversal through the other things for the aforementioned commitment that stands behind both producing and reading motivations. When employed to dealing with revolution, the effective concepts of desire and nostalgia capture, in a similar way how Bini Adamchak employs her concept of begehren, desire, open citation, an effective dimension of the political, which is central to revolutionary processes as a motivating, action-guiding, history-making factor. Closing citation. So how does a revolution look like? For Foucault, the archive was not a physical place, but a set of relations and institutions that govern the appearance of statements. The archive, so Michel Foucault claims in his Archaeology of Knowledge, is the law of what can be said. It is the system of records that serves as proof for claims, the documentation that authorizes historical knowledge. The dialectical return of revolutions in the historical image of the long 19th century already suggests a connection between recurring statements, revolution and memory. In assessing their chances of success, all revolutions seem to recall the narratives produced by their predecessor, the French Revolution. According to Hannah Arendt, revolutions consist in a radical new beginning, which initially disguises itself as a restoration, but immediately becomes independent, adopting a linear as well as a cyclical understanding of time. I keep on finding three images, three statements among others, in my father's photographs and in other informal and institutional archives of both revolutions. They are the tank, the carnation, and the hand sign of V for victory. These, such as Foucault's statements, are not defined only by its propositional content, since two identical propositions can have different enunciative characteristics depending on their location within separate discourses. There are two main subjects in my research, the one who lived the experience of two revolutions and produced the photographs, and the one who was born too late to actively take part in these events and has access to its memory exclusively through the photographic material and other documents, memorabilia, second-hand accounts, artworks and commemorative cultural products. In this sense, we find different expressions of longing and there are consequently different political dimensions within these coordinates. I take the concept of post-memory by Marianne Hirsch to address the mechanisms through which lived collective experiences of social upheaval, as the one of my father, assume a narrative form and are transferred to and re-inscribed into the identities of the collective subjects of a generation that cannot access these experiences as a recollection of their own memories like myself. Although the revolutionary processes that constitute the lived experience of their predecessors are out of reach, the second generation often shares a sense of both property upon and of belonging to them, as their historical and political relevance for social rearrangement determines that they play a strong role in the constitution of collective identities, let them be conflating or competing. So what are the driving forces behind the appearance and reappearance of statements? appearance and reappearance of statements. Pina Adamczak writes about the desire for revolution and how it can be recognized in the expression of what she coins as the revolutions fetish. This is described as the expression of a collective effect which does not originate as a continuous political development of the revolutionary process, but instead emerges from the particular and widespread emotional status of the collective subjects who mostly belong to the post-revolutionary generation. Adam Chuck takes the case of the October Revolution of 1917 in order to analyze the generalized emotional state in the aftermath of a successful revolution. She identifies a state of post-revolutionary depression, tracing it in terms of its consequences, the rise of Stalinism with its persecutions and processes of political cleansing, and its origins, the fetishization of the revolution. the fetishization of the revolution. Hence, when we look at desire and revolution, we must distinguish between a revolutionary and a post-revolutionary desire for a revolution. In the first case, desire is understood as an emotional expression central for revolutionary processes, being that, open citation, the concept of desire comprises an effective dimension of the political, close citation. Moreover, connected to wishes, dreams, longing, hope, and craving, desire is defined as a motivating, driving, and history-making force. In contrast, when we look at desire in the context of the post-revolutionary period of the October Revolution, the ultimate consequence of desire would be the production of a generalized state of depression. Similarly to a post-memory generation, the post-revolutionary generation also has access to the events outside of the limits of their lived experience through communicative memory, thus through the narratives of our predecessors. These narratives are, in the case of a successful revolution, exacerbated by an especially particularly fast establishment of state-mediated cultural memory through celebrations and monuments. of state-mediated cultural memory through celebrations and monuments. In this sense, when we affirm that the post-revolutionary generation longs for the heroic and violent revolutionary fighting of the past, it is indeed longing for events of the past mediated by two main channels, thus translated both into official and familial narratives. thus translated both into official and familial narratives. Furthermore, when we think of the history-making power of desire, we stand before a double meaning of the expression. History-making in terms of acting historically, to fulfill the desire of establishing a new society, or in terms of writing history, putting facts in order and reconstructing interests of the parties involved guided by the desire for a specific narrative. Revolution commemoration tells preferentially, if not only, about the violent revolutionary struggle. Narratives of heroism, reserved for the moment of the revolutionary fight, are absent in the process of building up the ideal post-revolutionary society. The narratives stemming from the process of revolution, remembrance, are averting the relation of means and ends as they are responsible for the fixation of desire. Not only a more constructed term than desire, but also implicitly more closely related to the effective dimension of remembrance, is the concept of nostalgia. Svetlana Boim understands nostalgia as, open citation, an intermediary between collective and individual memory, close citation. individual memory. Close citation. Coming back to the distinction between a revolutionary and a post-revolutionary longing for evolution, what is the attractive force behind these repeating images for the second subject, like myself? Is it a second-order nostalgia? What Max Grau describes as a longing for times and places you just know from stories. In the first line, it doesn't matter which kind of stories they are. The condition for the attraction is that these are stories one cannot access through remembrance of one's own lived experience. Probably the most well-known for nostalgia without a lived experience is what Arjuna Padurai describes as ersatz nostalgia. Nevertheless, if ersatz nostalgia makes possible for nostalgic longing to be addressed to another object than one's own past, it also induces one into missing what you haven't lost. In this sense, it also presupposes nostalgia without collective historical memory. Displacement is the central condition for the feeling of nostalgia. For a comparison with the affective state of desire, I propose to consider Hirsch's process of transgenerational transfer of narratives in post-memory also as a process of displacement. Memory forcefully travels to a second generation in its new place in the form of inherited photographs and the narratives of remembrance conveyed in them. It competes with the own remembrance narratives of its recipients. While, as we have seen, this does not mean at all that repeating statements keep their original form, and although taking the shape of over-imposing narratives, these have the faculty of keeping alien features that allow the new subjects to identify them in their migrating forms and to ultimately develop resistant strategies against their dominance. Hence, for Coordinates in Post-Memory, Transgenerational Desire and Nostalgia, I think of the ability of revisiting time like space as the desire of the nostalgic. revisiting time like space as the desire of the nostalgic, the ability of images and their narratives not only to travel in time, but also between subjects with post-memory. And, likewise to the transgenerational displacement of the desire for evolution, we can add the means and inversion as displacement at the level of the revolutions fetish. Lastly, out of our extensive cultural historical study of nostalgia, Boehm developed the thesis of two different forms of nostalgia, reflexive and restorative. Restorative nostalgia would be mainly focused on a conservative agenda with a purpose of retrieving narratives belonging to an idealized and homogeneous past and chase the goal of producing whole and tendentiously normative narratives morally legitimized by their genuine process of extraction from the historical and collective past, thus carrying the power of truth. On the other hand, reflexive nostalgia accepts the fragmentary nature of the narratives of remembrance and finds ailment in the confirmation of its forever lost elements, finding its reason to be in the permanent longing caused by the constant realization of the irreversibility of time. Indeed, the concept of nostalgia strongly drifts between an expression of the bound of collective memory and the privatization of history, in the sense that it tends to be perceived by the longing subject as the expression of an individual desired towards an imagined past. Thank you. Hello. Thank you very much, Ana, for this very nice talk. I just want to make a short reminder for everybody who is joining online, that you can post your questions in the chat and we will ask them here if there are some questions. Otherwise, I will just ask if there are some questions from the audience. Le preguntaré si hay alguna pregunta del público. ¿Sí? Hola, gracias por la presentación. Tengo dos preguntas. Una es sobre la distinción que haces I have two questions. One is regarding this distinction you make of desire, revolutionary desire, and then post-revolutionary desire of revolution. you sort of state that this post-revolutionary desire for revolution produces this kind of state of depression or something like that and I was wondering because I I've also been thinking a lot about that and I and it came to my mind this thesis of Enzo Traverso, again, like how nostalgia can be very productive also in the sense, I mean, this post-revolutionary nostalgia, in the sense that it is a constant refusal to the status quo. So unlike being this kind of paralyzing or depressive state, it can also be a manifestation of a contemporary or a very present refusal or act of refusal of not wanting to let go the desire of transformation. So I wanted to know what you think about that. And also about the photos. You mentioned that the photos of your father, but then there were a lot of images and I wanted to know a bit more about the rest of the images that we were looking at. Thanks. Okay, I start with the first question. So this analysis, it's borrowed from Biddy Adamczak and what she does in this distinction between the revolutionary desire from the generation that then ends up making the revolution and the revolutionary desire of the generation after it has to do, it has also a very gendered analysis so where she spots this means and inversion, this fetishization is in the fact that she uses where she spots this means and inversion, this fetishization, is in the fact that she uses the case study of the October Revolution first, that the generation that comes after, like either being born too late or being too young to have taken an active part at the revolution, is confronted with a hierarchy of statues between narratives, between the heroic narratives, between these fighting narratives of the ones who sacrificed and made the revolution. So it's a very narratives of heroism. And they are confronted with the care work, with the task in the case of a successful revolution of constructing, maintaining the achieved transformations in society. And in this also very gendered hierarchy, this task of caring for this new society and constructing the new society seems to be much less significant than the struggle, than the fight, than the heroism against the enemies and making up the revolution. So not making up, but making the revolution. And it's there that she searches for a certain symptom that in her analysis would have been one of the things that led to this means and inversion, like if there is not an outside enemy, you have to search for an internal enemy in order to perpetuate this struggle and the active fight for evolution, even if you already live in a post-revolutionary society. And it would have been one of the things that would bring this very cannibalistic, Stalinistic system of political cleansing and searching for enemies everywhere from within. So this is her analysis. I think it's very interesting. It's a very gendered analysis. And it also, exactly so, so it means in versions that you, before making the revolution, your desire would be for the post-revolutionary society. And when you are born to the post-revolutionary society, your desire is toward the revolution itself. But that already took place. So there is this fetishization occurring. And it's exactly like this time axis, like what you are longing for in this desire is something that happened in the past. And this is maybe like this depressive in sense of also a situation where time seems to be displaced. You are not constructing something from the future, but mourning for something that happened in the past. thing that that happened in the past. So and the second question, I was thinking, I don't know if it became very clear, because I said the name in the beginning, very fast. So Jose Alberto, and I don't know if it was enough to trace back to the captions of the photographs also, because other also have man names because of some famous photographers, photo journalists during the carnation and the Velvet Revolution. But all the photographs you saw from José Albert, all those that did not happen in 1974 at the Carnation Revolution and in 1989 at the Velvet Revolution are photos made by my father. And these are photos made by my father. And these are photos where it's not only about finding these repeating statements like the carnation, the tanks, the V sign for victory in the different historical events of the revolutions it's also about finding them in in everyday life somehow so so some of these very strong images this this building full of people or there are lots of people climbing over a tank they're actually photos of a military parade in 1983. So like in a period, so called period of normalization, where the Czechoslovak socialist state had a very well established system also of political repression, and it was a state organized military parade. So, so this moment that this images that look from moments of disruption are actually moments of a very normative event and just of people trying to see better and look into something. But then there is this question of the gaze of the one who is taking the pictures that's also producing these images because some of the way how they are framed, it's very similar to those very, very, very famous images of the Carnation Revolution, or the photos of the building, you also don't see the military, I don't know if just the tanks or the cars or which which machinery was was being showed, You just see people covering it and other people looking down. So there is a reappearance of images in contexts that they certainly don't belong to, like when you know which they are. And that's what interests me also in these pervasive images. And I work with this collection of photos that my father made and also with different institutional archives. And they also have different kinds of statues, these archives. There are archives that are run by associations in Portugal. There is the secret archive, the archive of the state police in Czechoslovakia, so they also have where the images come from. It's also very very different. So anybody here? Lena? Here, Lena, or? Thank you. This is not a question from the chat, but my own question. Because you just mentioned in a kind of side note, you were talking about the activated archive. But you also spoke about how for you, as the post-mem memory subject in this case the the image exists before the camera before like you traced it back like that and i was just wondering if you could reflect a little bit about when does the activation of this particular shoebox archive begin? Does it begin, like how, when is, let's say, or even if you make the question more broad, and I think that would be a question that probably concerns a lot of projects that are being presented in the symposium, when does the activation of a vernacular archives begin? Yeah, I mean, that's very specific for each of them, but maybe there is an overall reflection also. Yeah, that's a very good question. So maybe I will stick to my research where I think that this happens because it's clear, like you have photos inside a box. This does not mean this is an archive. No, like this is a collection of photos inside a shoebox. So I think there are two moments happening in regard to this material. And one is also that I tried like now later to trace this moment it's the moment when these photos are not objects in the sense they don't have a function but they are things and they are things that had a very for me they had a very unclear status at my home because this box of photos it was kept in a in a cabinet where all family photos were and so these photos were always treated as family photos and I mean we didn't have a very specific like no photo albums like a very disorganized way of dealing with this family photos but the fact that they were stored in the same place they it made them automatically family photos for me and I realized only much later that actually uh these are photos that were taken much before my father had a family of his own so to say so they're a family of photos, but there was no wife, no kids, no, I mean, there are maybe a couple of them with parents that came to visit like by his academic, like when he finished his studies. But so they are treated as family photographs, but there's no family in these photos so they they start being uh things that uh one maybe as a bigger kid has access to and tries to make sense of and frame them in in this concept of family photos but they're also like a box where everything is mixed together so you pull out a picture and there is a photo of a first of May parade in Portugal, like in the first years after the revolution with a lot of people on the streets, lots of groups from different civic movements as well. And you pulled out another photo and there is a scene like friends in a student dorm. Then there is a scene of these military parades and you keep pulling photos and things mix all together. And then I think that's the moment where something starts to happen on this operational level where you understand that the way how these photos are stored together, the way how they are not organized chronologically or in terms of time, that they are establishing new meaning possibilities between them. So I think that's the first time that some kind of operation starts taking place. And then, of course, when you start, then later providing it with a historical context and even if you try to keep this alternative disorganization as I say it as a alternative historiography as a more creative playful historiography even if you protect it they are already communicating with other narratives and with collective processes and I think then there is the time where something is happening that you can start calling it an archive because there is a maybe because there is a collective reality or there are other narratives established narratives that it can challenge or that it can enhance uma realidade coletiva, ou há outras narrativas, narrativas estabelecidas, que podem ser desafiadoras, que podem ser melhoradas, que podem contribuir ou negar. Talvez também precisem ser uma parte externa deste arquivo, em termos de recepientes para o arquivo. Sim. in terms of recipients for the archive. Anyone? Bertolt? I was just wondering, maybe I didn't get it, but did you talk to, were you able to talk to your father about the photographs because, like what was your first encounter? How did it happen that you encountered these photographs, this box of photographs, and how did it happen that you encountered these photographs this box of photographs and how did you work with them uh after yeah the first looking and yeah this is the thing like i i mean i talked to my father especially since i'm doing a research project the photos but more on like to ask like can you borrow me these photos I want to do something with them so there's also a big trust involved in it because I also opted especially at the beginning of my project not to talk about them with my father in order to be able to focus on the photos and the images and not and try to get some distance of this level of interpretation that happens when my father says what is what and how it was. But I don't remember the first time when I saw these photos because that's the thing they were in this cabinet at home with all other family photos and I think I had some automatic Kodak camera maybe like disposable ones or something like when maybe when I was 12 or later and so then I also had photos of my own that I could also put in this cabinet so it started interesting like looking at everything what's there so I think probably the first encounters were not moderated by by these narratives and but I know stories like from this time and then maybe it was even me like trying to connect the photos to certain anecdotes my father would tell yes but to this day you don't talk with your father about his photographic practices about his memories in connection are you I do I do okay I do so now it's also integrated into your research it has been yes I try I mean I have some factual things that I try to check something she doesn't remember also very well so I have to I mean I double check everything yes but like most of the photos exactly because they were not of the carnation revolution they were not of the velvet revolution they were in like this 13 years in between so there is not they don't have like, like, my father was surprised that it's possible to make a project out of these photos. So so it's like, it's hard, like, I think, for him to navigate to understand what I'm actually searching there about because they seem to him like very random and that's also the the thing like that we talked about in in other lectures also yesterday um about this family archives like who can make uh photos like this question like of class privilege and everything and as i understood in the case of my father, this was very much determined by contingency, because there was a dark room in each student dorm of the Technical University in Prague in the late 70s, beginning of 80s. And there were these old Russian cameras that were affordable. And I understood also many years ago, there was a meeting of Portuguese students that have been in former socialist countries and in the Soviet Union and all of them had this kind of photos and they looked pretty much, I'm sorry, but they looked pretty much the same. So there is some, so also there is not an artistic intention. I mean, there is a strong politicization. There is, of course, an interest, yes, of everything that's political, social, but not as a photojournalist or not as an artist. Okay. Maybe as a last question from the chat, somebody's writing here, some of the victory hands, like the logo of the MFA, shows the right hand, some others show the left hand. Does it make any difference? Yeah, but it's something it's I don't have a answer, unfortunately, but it's something that also interests me a lot. And I mean, I also work as an artist and I had also a project where I worked with interpreter of Portuguese sign language. And I realized like, for example, that sign language, it's with with hand signs and body language. It also changed in time, and in terms of politicization. And for example, in he did also amazing historical work. So in the 70s, at least 80s. So the the way to say the Portuguese Communist Party, if I don't switch, was like the hand side with the left hand, the Socialist Party was with the right hand. And then at some point, I don't know if it's in the 90s, you only say like the PCP and PS, you only make the signs for the letters. So there is also like some, I don't know if like with the left hand, it's more left than with the right hand. But I'm also interested in this question, but I don't have an answer. This was a very thought provoking and very condensed presentation. So I kept trailing off thinking about things you said. So maybe you already answered my question. But could you briefly say what you mean by privatization in that context? Because we all have an understanding what privatization means. And of course, it's from the public to the private, I suppose. So what do you, if you haven't explained it already, then I'm sorry. Yeah, I haven't. I don't know if I'm that further. But intuitively, I would say it's from the big history into the personal story. So there's some kind of appropriation going on there. I mean also I had this question for Markus Wurzel yesterday like this, what's the motivation of wanting to connect your personal story to the big history? It's like, hey, I was on TV or something like when you, someone in your family was actually had some connection to some famous event. So I'm interested in this ways of projection of yourself into the big narrative, but also taking something of the big narrative to your private story. So maybe, but I think I have to develop that further. But that would be the way.