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Do I smile at prejudice, or do I strike it down like a twisted song woven into a nightmare that cannot exist without my attention, without my consent? And yet I birth it, and I silence it, for unlike those who roar through microphones—lions erupting in disdain, in hope, in hollow promises—I sit among the savages.

And they begin to shed their old skins. They take on new tones as I smile at images once shackled by propriety, notoriety, and the hunger for fame. I leave them to seek higher ground, to wander to lower pastures, for all things—opposites, dualities—move as one, shaping our lives, framing our destinies.