A solitary figure lies on the cold, indifferent pavement. This mannequin head, separated from its body and its purpose, rests in a posture that feels strangely like deep meditation.
As the world rushes past, he remains still. Is he mourning a lost identity, or is he finally free from the burden of display? Amidst the grit of the street and the weathered shutters, he holds a silence that speaks volumes.
What thoughts are drifting through that styrofoam mind, here on the edge of the urban rush?
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