As goals fade and it becomes clear that no action really matters, meaning fades too. At that moment, desire fades, movement fades, and the body follows suit. Heaviness replaces lightness, the soul is fraught with anxiety, and the body wants to break free from this burden. The suspension of action, the fading of meaning, and the futile search for the source of such heaviness triggers anxiety that invades both my body and mind. It drives me to search for my tragedy but I do not find it, for it is not tangible. I cannot resist, cope with, or mourn a tragedy that I do not see. I search for it in memory, among clear and faded pictures, in Damascus and Beirut, in the shadows of my close friend Louay’s stories, between my prisons and his own. I finally find it in my body. But as soon as it is severed, I begin searching for it all over again.