The last one is a big empty blue-black space, dotted with bright blue spots—like flags fading in the wind. Rusty marks drip at the sides, hinting at broken lines and endless talks.
This is my take on Brussels: The rooms where plans get made but nothing changes fast. Young lives from far away turn into numbers on a page. The blue feels cold, like staying out of it when you can't. Put these three together, and your wall tells a story of war without the fights.
