Rust and Resonance

The gears have forgotten the weight of an hour, their brass teeth locked in a permanent grin, clogged with the gray silt of pigeons and the fine, dry breath of the century.

Light leans against the frosted glass, a heavy shoulder pushing through the dust, igniting a single, motionless pendulum that hangs like a held breath in the dark.

Outside, the city spills its restless noise, a river of light breaking against the stone, but here, the silence has a texture— thick as velvet, cold as a key.