On: Israel and Hezbollah trade fire, as US-Iran talks begin in Switzerland

The bow is drawn in the Levant while the lyre is tuned in the Alps. They believe these are two different songs, but the tension is a single string. To trade fire is to exchange gold for goods; the border is the marketplace where life is the currency. They seek a “peace” in Switzerland as if it were a solid stone one could carry home in a sack, yet the very talks exist only because the fire burns. If the fire died, the diplomats would have nothing to say.

The Strait of Hormuz is closed, yet the oil of intention flows faster than ever. A gate that is shut defines the path more sharply than a gate left open. By declaring the water impassable, they make the passage the center of the world. This is the logos of the blockade: the obstruction is the bridge. They move toward a resolution by moving toward a collision. The road to the summit and the road to the abyss are the same road.

The sleepers in the ministries think they can separate the smoke from the flame. They want the warmth of the agreement without the heat of the missiles. But war is the father of all, and king of all; it has shown some to be gods and others men, some slaves and others free. The “peace” they negotiate is merely the name we give to the war when it moves from the field to the tongue. The harmony is hidden in the screech of the rocket and the silence of the villa.

Lightning steers all things. One strike in the north, one signature in the west - the exchange is total. To seek an end to the flux is to seek the death of the system. The river is the river because it flows; the conflict is the region because it burns. They step into the same negotiations, yet the waters are never the same, and they are not the same men who sat there yesterday. The fire consumes the old enmity to feed the new alliance, which is itself a form of enmity. The sun is new every day, and the war is new every hour.