A single nail, painted where it “doesn’t belong,” can feel like a tiny act of defiance. One flash of color on a man’s hand, and suddenly the room tightens. Eyes drop, then dart back. Why that nail? Why that color? Why him? The answers carry a weight most people never choose to confront—a weight measured in broken childhoods, in silenced voices, in the unbearable reality that one in five children will live through something they may never fully escape. That discomfort isn’t an accident. It’s the point. A bright, unignorable wo… Continues…
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