Translated by Act for freedom now!/boubourAs
We claim the responsibility for the incendiary attack at the house of ex minister of Economy and National Defence, Giannos Papandoniou. We arrived outside the door of his mansion on Olympias street in Kifissia and torched the two cars used by him and his “wife” Roula Kourakou for their meaningless movements. The personal guard the pig has could not ensure the security he seeks. Although our thoughts flirted constantly with the image of the flaming mansion and the terrorized Papandoniou and his “wife” looking for a way out, we had from the beginning eliminated such an idea since inside the mansion is also their young child which we did not want to put in any danger.
Far from a populist rhetoric we identify in the face of Giannos Papandoniou an officer of authority. We are not interested in listing the dodgy things he has done, although he surely has done many. Either way, corrupted or not corrupted, state officers, irrelevantly if they hold their positions in the state mechanism, are a permanent target for the insurrectionist dignities. We carried out our attack on the same night when four years ago cops murdered comrade Alexandros Grigoropoulos. Four years ago and someone left early, a cry of death which detonated the insurrection and the incidents we all know, four years later on the same day, a large fire and a few explosions outside the house of a stated enemy re-ignite our hate and unleash the terror towards the desirable direction. Through personal attacks we desire to burglar their safe territorial zones in their lives. Their houses, their cars, their prodigal life.
Thoughts from the abyss, dedicated from our hearts to those who sink with rage into their own abyss…
Dark faces, with their characteristics hidden behind a face mask, with their insides burning. They burn from their passion for a freedom which must be lived, for a death which might be near, for an unexpected incident which changed their lives. For a moment they light up above the lit fires of the barricades, and the burnt merchandise of the metropolises, with eyes which shine by a hope, for the impossible which must be accomplished at all costs, for the contradiction which armed itself and has taken its own battle position in the chamber . And the gun aims the enemy as well as our heads. A Russian roulette which leads to madness. And this madness, beautiful and dangerous floods every muscle of our body, every neurone of our brain, it becomes a rock on the heads of the cops, a bombs at the central headquarters of the ruling class, bullets in the bodies of our torturers. And returning to base, the armed contradiction fires off, transforms into a perpetual question which buzzes and screams inside us, a cry which pours for the change which is getting further and further, a cry which breaks the stone night of the modern slaves in order to inform them of our arrival.
“Motherfuckers, I am going to fuck you up, al of you, today I touched the end just like you touch your husband or wife, what a standard procedure for you, like taking the food of the oven, how new for us every time a new experience and new feeling, a new feeling which is born condemned to die next to us in a dark place of recollection, fuckers, I fuck your god, if only I could draw a line and shoot in the air like the person who declares the start of a running match, knowing that I will run like crazy through lakes, forests and mountains but at the end I would have gained a sign winner or loser, fuck your god.”
And as soon as the sun sets taking with it to its unknown well, meanings and aims, challenges and depositions, these unknown faces appear from the same unknown place which whoever looked for was lost in the transcendent wandering, are now happy, smiling with a little bit of borrowed happiness from the catastrophic creation they are preparing to spread, decisive that this time they will touch the sky stretching their hands until their limbs hurt.
We want some time more, just to put our chaotic thoughts in an alleged order, define the variable of our lives which is suffocating in the dirty basements of the meaningless life of the modern world and come to the surface for a breath. Only a breathe which will last long enough for us to run, fall in love, cry, hug our friends and parents, laugh hard, love those close to us, hate our enemies, glaze at the horizon, the universe of infinite possibilities. And the moment the asphyxiation dominates us we will again wear our face masks and arm ourselves for one last time, this time the word revenge will take the terrifying dimensions we always dreamed, we will burn the bearers of human contempt and accumulated oppression, cops and judges, state workers and politicians, the authoritarian storm which hits us will become ash. And at the exact moment we have set up a wonderful dance on the bodies of all those we realize that the joy of victory has no meaning because you have no time, you try to get another breath, live the world you shaped in your head for so many years in the struggle with the plasticine of anarchist imagination, you start to get dizzy, fuck, just a breath, one breath, but you have made your agreements when you shook hands with the wind it whispered it to you with a sad complaint, you only have one breath brother. Fuck it, that was it, if time was a person I would have definitely murdered it with pleasure, with your eyes wide open you suck up your last images and smells, you think hectically, you know that the infinity of nothing follows so you must think long. Slowly slowly you lose communication, after a bit everything had gone..
We seek the fatal moment…
The time when we will have eliminated every attitude of postponement for the undertaking of responsibility of absolute positions, opinions, practices, every ethical approach deterrent for catastrophic acts with sole aim the completion of the momentary experience, the relentless desires, the most violent instincts. The moment thought and action will fall in love, starting a magical illegal dance of passion and risk under the light of the stars. The moment every fear will be one more reason to break the limits and live outside. Outside of every law which orders us, every society that subjugates us, every compromise that cheekily winks at us. To live outside of their reality, structuring diffuse sources of chaos and illegality for every criminal of thought and action. Calling all the misfits of this world to vandalize everything ethical, all the radicals to make every mediocrity bleed, all the crazies to murder everything logical.
Imposing the insane demon we have been feeding for years in our guts.
To execute the power of majority!
Long live the creative nothing!
Long live Anarchy!
Honour for ever to the dead of the anarchist liberating struggle.
Fighting Minority / Commando Alexandros Grigoropoulos