The voice carries emotion, clarity, defiance.

The face is not yet fully visible — half-lost in the play of light and shadow, obscured by the haze in the air.

Who does it belong to?

It might be me. It might be you.

It might be anyone who has looked at the world, felt it slipping into madness, and still held on to a spark inside them.

A spark more enduring than hope itself.

Because that inner flame cannot be snuffed out as long as life remains. Even in the face of a hopeless future, nothing can extinguish this human defiance.

Nothing.

The vocalist is a reflection. A mirror of you and of me.

For whatever truth you find in it.