Often we feel like seeds cast into unforgiving pavement-unseen, unheard, and unwelcome. We step into a world that was not built for us, where the weight of concrete, presses down, cold and indifferent, daring us to remain buried beneath expectations not our own. Yet, against all odds, we push through. Cracks form where they said none could exist. From the fractures, we/rise-delicate yet unyielding, tender yet relentless. We are the wildflowers that defy the city's , gray expanse, roots gripping the impossible, stems bending but never breaking. The world may be fierce, unknown, and uninviting,, but we carve our own way, blooming where we were never meant to. This is for the immigrant who makes a home where none was offered. This is for the ones who turn struggle into beauty. This is for the ones who refuse to be paved over. This is Thru Concrete.