She bought an armchair finer than her ministerial one and never parted with it again. The stubborn assertion of an authority that insists on dragging its own armchair even into cramped, shared spaces of transit, blocking everyone else's movement. Around her, crushed in a spectral asphyxiation, remain the faces of those who endure the bulk of this arrogance—the motionless hostages of a power that never yields an inch and feeds entirely on its own stagnation, disguised as stability.