Found in excess.

In the lucid flaw of a gesture.

In colour that never apologises.

Being is political.

Each face, a manifesto.

Each imperfection, a new alphabet.

Silence the mimicry.

Let the noise of truth surface.

Sharp, tender, unrepeatable.

Style is not a mask –

it’s a mirror cracked by desire.

What remains is essence: raw, plural, unapologetic.

Do not imitate.

Do not pleas e.

Belong – only to yourself.