A solitary
shepherd stands above a sea of sheep flooding a monumental civic square, the
skyline unmistakably evoking Westminster at dusk. The crook in his hand curves
like a quiet symbol of guidance—or restraint—while the crowd below dissolves
into anonymous uniformity. Bathed in warm, fading light, the scene feels
deceptively serene, its tension residing in the uneasy merger of pastoral
innocence and political theatre. Leadership here is presented as both watchful
and withdrawn, hovering between protection and control.
