The mood wavers between carnival and execution. What could have been a prank mutates into a bitter rite: celebration slips into cruelty, laughter curdles into a scream that stays lodged in the throat. The face becomes a pulp-skull, helmet and wound at once, staring back at the camera like a bad joke that refuses to end—aware that lives today are counted not in dignity, but in numbers, in charts, in the daily bargain between discount and obituary.
Photo of a photo by Rafaella Dulanto