"A crack in the silence"

The city no longer explains itself — it simply exists. Towers rust into memory. Pipes moan broken brass sonatas to no one. The past lies scattered like unplugged wires, like instructions for a machine no one needs. People are signals lost in static — faint, delayed, no receivers left. This was once a place that waited for the future. Now the future waits in line, holds a number, forgets its voice. The wind scans the space: concrete and glass, frameworks and fragments. Everything here is geometry of loss. And yet — the frame happened. Which means: there was a witness. (Image from the “Antiglamour” series.)