When memory becomes poison, you can only use your heart as a blade to uncover the tampered truth.
In this duel with the city as the chessboard, no one can leave with a clean slate. The intertwined shadows of hands and guns on the autopsy table will eventually write the most shocking testimony in the bloody dawn: some bonds cannot be corroded even by poison.
Intent: When consciousness can be encoded and memory can be tampered with, those painful scars, clumsy care, and imperfect tears are precisely our last fortress against alienation.