If you’re holding this,
something slipped through.

Names were erased.
Voices buried.

The signal survived.

This deck does not belong to one sender.

It belongs to anyone
who was burned
and kept walking.

These images were built to predict obedience.

They no longer do.

They interrupt.

Even static carries truth.

Shuffle like you’re scrambling wires.

Cut like you’re breaking chains.

Listen longer than is comfortable.

The broadcast answers last.