What stays the same for a hundred years.

Blue, yellow, black, green, red — laid at full saturation on pure white. Never pastel-washed, never tinted; the field carries the weight, the rings hold the chord.

Five identical circles, identical line — no continent ranks above another. The geometry argues a politics: parity made visible in two rows of three and two.

Helvetica for the headline, Inter for the body, set with a generous five-percent track. The voice is internationalist, modernist, and read across any language at the podium.

No glass, no gloss, no drop-shadow theatrics. Depth is a one-pixel rule in black; ornament is the empty field. Every plane stays civic, planar, and quiet.