Description
A carnival of shadows and whispers, where a bad year is punctuated by flames, silent sparks in the spectator's gaze. Giants loom, twirling on a carousel of chaos; their ballet a quiet riddle in the smog. Echoes of laughter, or is it a lament? The crowd—a patchwork of polka-dotted apparitions—caught in the half-light, half-dark, each breath a question mark. And there, the master’s grin, a skull in the spotlight, is it a jest? The spectacle blurs lines, melds hope with haze, the showman's specter a tightrope over the unknown.
