Stopped Clocks
Stopped watches filled a chipped glass case, each frozen hand marking a different hour under the street’s pale light. Dust motes danced in the beams illuminating these individual halts of time, their ochre glow highlighting the intricate layers within each mechanism. Each watch wasn't signaling an absence, but holding a specific weight—a past intention settling into the present form. The collection felt less like broken objects and more like echoes accumulating along the edges of where moments once were, finally resting in quiet stillness.