Monolith of Hours

A narrow brick tower rises like a dark metronome, counting time against a pale, cloud-streaked sky. The clock, the cross and the thin vertical slit of windows turn the building into a watchful figure, somewhere between church, watchtower and monument. Trees gather at its base like a silent congregation, their crowns almost touching the stone. In monochrome, the scene slips into a quiet dystopia: faith and authority, shelter and surveillance, all compressed into a single vertical line of brick reaching up and out of frame.