Imported from my VSCO journal.

The clock tower looms up above the street and when the light catches it at dusk, it's a magnificent sight. When the clouds roll in, it's striking; with a clear sky, regal. The freeway overpass hides the sleeping homeless and the tech crowd getting lunch at the food trucks from its gaze, the gaze that dispassionately marks the forward progress of time as it beats a monotonous cadence forward. Time waits for no one, as they say, and the clock tower is a constant reminder. We're not getting any younger, our regrets pile up, the lost time continues to accumulate, the river of time swallows all. The things we wished we'd done remain undone, and the clock tower's solemn gaze serves as a constant reminder for those who are paying attention. Of course, we're usually distracted by the endless stream of nothings emanating from their phone. Rarely substantive, reposts of reposts of a mutilation of someone else's original idea, served in bite-sized chunks. We often times don't bother with the reading, opting for a photoshopped picture reflecting whatever fantasy is currently being mistaken for reality, overlaid with large-print monosyllabic nonsense. Everyone's rushing to the grave with their reality mediated by glowing five inch panes of glowing glass and aluminium. The clock tower pulls us back to a pre-digital time when we had to be engaged with the world around us, before instant gratification. Maybe we're better for it, and maybe we're growing farther apart. That's the million-dollar question—are we better for it? Is this perhaps the diet cola of life with its flavour-without-substance? Perhaps (and I suspect this to be the case) it's a another coping strategy for life.

The clock tower still stands, impervious to these questions. It'll keep doing so until felled by progress or the next big one.