Broadside

Imagine you're at a tavern in Boston two hundred and fifty years ago, it's alive with ink, ale and argument. Colonists gather around a Broadside, they’re weary of taxes, wary of power but hopeful enough to sing of liberty. Freedom, it seems, began on paper – words printed in haste, sung in satire and sold for a penny. A beggars opera of rebellion and belief, performed by a nation still learning its lines. We may have traded presses for posts, but the argument endures.