POEM OF THE WORK You who watch over digital ports, torch raised in the fog of screens, You no longer guard the doors of a single country, but the paths of a network without borders. Your blurred face dissolves labels, No king, no nation, no flag on your skin. You are the shadow of all, the anonymous double, the open mask where our multiple identities are reflected. In your hand, the stone has turned into a block. String, key and code pad, where laws are written in transparent lines, engraved in the cold memory of the blockchain. You light the roads of nomadic artists, voices long lost in the closed galleries, and you offer them an immaterial anchor, A wallet as a passport, an NFT as a visa. Oh recomposed statue, guide of Web2 exiles, keeps this flame dispersed in the air, May the flame of our freedoms never be extinguished. as long as the blocks beat like synchronous cores to the infinite rhythm of our human interactions.