Noon

The chimney stands but no smoke rises. A red wall divides the world in two — inside and outside, stillness and flow. A railway running straight bends at a certain point. The trace of things that could not stop stopping, then twisting their bodies to find the direction they must go again. Beyond the wall, new railway ties have begun to be laid. The track continues past the edge of the canvas, but where it leads cannot be seen. The factory has stopped, but time has not. The rail has bent, but life has not broken.