Revolution begins and ends in the dark corridors of heavy hearts. Out past the breaking point of loss and great griefs, beyond despairing resignation to currents and conditions. Sparked at the tiny cardiac altar when hope flickers low, craving a gust of wind or a strike of lightning to raise its flames to crackling.

The horror and the helplessness of war is unfathomable. Here we sit in our safe houses scrolling through terror and tyrannical spite spliced disquietingly between our regular programming. It is bewildering and beyond sense or reason. Our world gone mad - again - as the revolution is televised in real time and on sickening repeat.