All is in perfect harmony … all symbols are placed where they belong … all is said and yet nothing is obvious, something is highly disturbing.
The senior figure, pushing away the concrete towers, in an effort to break them or just to surrender, carries all the dignity of an entire society on his shoulders. As he carries messages, and greetings to the rulers. Reddish hues, warm, welcoming, human, sometimes furious.
The twin flags, yet another arranged marriage of convenience, dominate the second major shade. The bluish. Hostile, cold resistance to any fire still burning in this small square, this raped city, this envied country.
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