Between the wall and the sea, beneath cannons and surveillance cameras, a cactus imported from Mexico by colonizers takes root on the slopes of Montjuïc mountain. Classified as an invasive species, it withstands a plague of cochineal insects that drain its sap. The few fruits it produces are prickly, and their seeds are spat out. Below, containers stack up in the port of Barcelona. Goods come and go on ships, cranes, and trucks. At the top of the cliff, a hand opens a knife, a finger plays with the spines, a song echoes in a foreign language, and two people pass the time. Pausing on a minimal gesture like sharing a prickly pear, a fruit discarded by global consumption, La figa, l’espina, l’escut [The fig, the thorn, the shield] claims a space of latency and singularity beyond systems of standardization and exclusion.