Two monumental, sleeping fists become rival territories—one blue, one red—upon which roosters posture like heralds of an inherited conflict, their plumage echoing the chromatic divide below. The spare white ground reads as a suspended hush, while the miniature figures, vehicles, and animals orbit the central ring like a society improvising normal life at the edge of a staged confrontation. Everyday objects—most pointedly the hanging phone—hover as quiet authorities, suggesting how communication and power can dangle above bodies made into emblems. In this surreal tableau, bravado and vulnerability coexist: the clenched hand, stilled in sleep, implies that even the most forceful ideologies ultimately rest on something human and fallible.