This carnival was really important to me because it marked five years since we lost David. The idea to organize a carnival instead of a traditional funeral came up spontaneously in Venice – born out of despair and hope at the same time. Because Venice, carnival, Mikhail Bakhtin – these were such a vital part of David’s world, his whole way of seeing things. It just felt right to try and keep that alive in all its messiness, its collectivity, its joy, but also its fears. 

Born from despair but also from an attempt to step into the impossible – to find that place where past and present collapse into one.

And the connection with Bakhtin – of course, this is key. Carnival as a space where death doesn’t get the last word, where laughter and fear live side by side, where life wins precisely by acknowledging how fragile and collective it is.

Over 250 places around the world joined that first carnival. People organized big parades – on Portobello Road in London, in Zuccotti Park in New York. The Kurds in Rojava held mass gatherings. And then there were solo carnivals too, like the girl from Tehran who sent us a photo of herself in a mask, sitting alone in her room, reading David’s books.

Here’s the thing about carnivals – they can’t fail. Concerts can fail, exhibitions can fail, book launches can fail. But a carnival? It’s made by everyone participating at once, so it just is what it is – full of contradictions, chaos, and real life defeating death.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​