Where are the ones who won’t nod just to nod, the ones who sit out the parade, who don’t clap for empty things, who ask why and then ask what else, what more, what better—who move through systems like Satan’s smoke, unseen but undeniable, reshaping without announcing, rethinking it all, hungry, unsatisfied with the hollow, breathing life into the rigid, cutting paths through the overgrown, the dead, the flattened.