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They say we cannot fight the giants — That when they move, the world must kneel. But I am not made of silence. I am made of storms and stubborn will. Imagine a world where voices are caged, Where creators are crushed under golden boots, Where dreams are branded as property, And all that’s left… is profit and roots. I will not let that be our future. I will not watch brilliance die in court. Pocketpair may be a candle in the wind, But even wind can feed a fire’s core. Because art was never meant to be owned — It was meant to live. To grow. To inspire. To be reborn. We are the players. The dreamers. The builders. And as long as we still believe in choice, There is no giant we cannot face. So go ahead. Cast your shadows. We’ve built bonfires in darker places.