Madness

Madness was grown from Korgi

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H e dances in lunacy, a lone figure lurching through a country lobotomized beyond recognition, staggering in jagged, offbeat rhythms.

Each headline triggers a convulsion as the regime's cold machinery grinds on, filling the air with names of the dead. Time splinters into 1930s echoes and 1890s ghosts, history looping on a broken track, his limbs flailing in free-form, irregular motion against fascism's triumphal march, greed's sneer, and ICE's cruelty turning innocents into erased statistics.

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