Sands of Time

Sands of Time stages an oceanic myth: a clockface caught in the surge, as if history itself has washed ashore. The scene holds a tension between measurement and drift, where the idea of progress meets the indifferent pull of tide.

Velvety night and mineral blues build a hush around ruin and foam. Time is not announced; it erodes, repeats, and returns, leaving only fragments to orient us.