Notes Against the Current
Notes I had to draw, because silence didn’t feel like an option
Sometimes reality outpaces satire — it’s already absurd enough.
These notes are intended to make sense of it. To push against it. To hold onto what still feels real when the din of disinformation and division threatens to drown us all.
Each sketch began as a feeling I couldn’t quite articulate. They’re the embodiment of my thoughts and emotions. They’re my voice, screaming into the void.
Reality Editing
When you know the story and see how the mainstream media presents it. You see that the facts are there, but the frame distorts them. The tone, the omissions, the angles — all carefully tuned in order to serve a predetermined agenda or narrative.
This drawing isn’t about one network or one side.
It’s about the creeping sense that what we’re being shown isn’t the full picture.
It’s the curated version of reality.
Against All Odds
We’re not supposed to grow in places like this: Where the air is so tight, the space is limited, and surrounded by walls. And those walls, though transparent, are impenetrable. You can see freedom, but you can't touch it.
And yet...
Somehow, Something stirs. Something stretches. Something reaches upward. Not because the conditions are right, but because it has no choice. It’s a necessity; it is life that always finds its way.
The Line I Draw
I’m tired of pretending antisemitism is just another opinion. Or it has something to do with politics or expressing criticism.
It isn’t.
It’s a shape-shifting virus that mutates through headlines, hashtags, and “just asking questions.”
The next note isn’t censorship. It’s self-respect. It’s a boundary. It’s the refusal to normalize hate by calling it dialogue. It’s the line I draw.
The one I forgot
“Will you still remember me when I’m 64?”
It sounds like a question someone else is asking... but really, it’s a question I often ask myself.
Will I remember? Will I still carry my stories when my hands are less steady, when the edges of time blur?
This note isn’t just about one man. It is about all of us. It’s about memory. About the games the mind plays with us. And my fear — of when forgetting becomes easier than remembering.
Those Notes are not answers. They’re fragments. Questions. Thoughts that came to the surface.
But if you saw something of yourself in them, then they’re no longer just mine. They belong to us.
Next week, new sketches will surface.
Some light. Some sharp. Some can be unsettling. But all will carry a thread —
a truth, a tension, a tenderness — that speaks to one part of who we are.
Nemo
Your reflections are very enlightening!