El Avión

Somewhere above, a steel beast is cutting the sky again - heavy, indifferent, with a roar in its heart and a mission on board. And each of his swings is like wiping someone's song, someone's laughter, someone's hope from the face of the earth. This isn't about heroism or victory. This is about the planet itself being tired of human ambition. When even the paint on the plane's hull seems guilty, and gravity is an accomplice. But amidst this curse, a strange blessing can be heard: a voice without weapons, without a flag, without an order. A voice that still believes it's possible not to kill in order to be heard.