Whose broken is this?

‘Passant’s words are marching songs. They speak for the dispossessed, across Terra Nullius, out of the factories, through wars and generations, to the ruins of Aleppo. Their rhythm is that of resistance, against the state, against prejudice, but for our common humanity. While at times necessarily bleak in outlook – “we are not in hell, we are alive” – they contain an unrestrained joy and faith, and an irresistible confidence for the future: “We are many, they are alone.” A place where the hearts