The opulence of a few overshadows the waning struggles of the least, and from the heavens, the layers of pyramids are outlined, populated by everyone from the establishment to the nomads, from the invisible hands of power pulling strings in the shadows, to the downtrodden. The divisions are stark, every social stratum palpable, and the circles reserved for our kind are infernal. Today we question—as all should question—why we are doomed to this unhealable, erroneous, and sickly attachment to a system that has shackled us, making us dependent on oppression, fear, hatred and hunger. We still wonder how it is possible that our infinite beauty is constrained by prohibitions, borders, and immoral obligations dictated by figures deemed superior, capable of organising the lives of others, especially those of the least. We wonder how it is possible to understand the pain and trembling of the wretched and downtrodden, if one observes from the sweetened golden palaces of power, without ever attempting to descend into the underbelly, the sewers, the black holes of humanity that spew venom and freedom. We must unite insects, rats, wolves, eagles, trees, flies. We must scream from the pyramid's base, curse the apex and shake the clouded, blocked consciences of the weakest who by mistake have found themselves as foes. We must unite insects, giraffes, elephants, children, swallows. We must tell the world of a possible existence, a world of multitudes and of love in abundance.