A woman — not an age, not a role. A presence.
Plastic on her head like a silent scream,
on her hand — the trace of weight,
at her ear — a whisper of what’s no longer needed.
Not an ornament, but a sign.
A world that wraps and silences.
And she — endures.
From silence, she shapes a manifesto.
From plastic — a question.
From herself — an answer no one expected.