A green figure in a black suit creeps sideways across cream paper, a burlap sack over one shoulder, the sack's mouth spilling hearts and music notes. The headline above reads: Who stole the joy? Not the singers, not the bands, not the sequined, peacock-feathered fans — but a creature in a suit, two-faced, crooked, and astute, who smiled warm in TV lights, then snuck off into the night.
Two long green hands in dark sleeves, each cuffed with a red EBU armband, reach in from the upper corners and pull a red heart apart down its middle. Music notes tumble out of the rift. They came for the joy. They reached for the heart, and they tore our glad thing completely apart.
Four hands in four different sleeves reach in from the corners of the frame to mend a red heart. One hand stitches a closing seam with needle and thread; one presses a plaster across it; one cradles the heart's left side; one ties a red ribbon in a bow. Three music notes rise from the top of the seam. Each sleeve wears a small band — a row of flags, a heart, a sunflower, a rainbow. The title above reads: We've overcome worse. We'll pick up the pieces. Together we can. We'll put our glad thing back together again.