The City of Today Tomorrow is alive. It swells, consumes, and as quickly as it builds, the city falls into disrepair. In one of these pockets a memorial rises.
You stand as the perpetrator and the victim. It is not your fault that the city has built itself the way it has but your quietness is just as telling. Ethereal, it hangs above you, criticizing with its weight. Sunlight draws you further, but the distance between you two is apparent. Its walls split; these shafts of light expose the city beyond. Slashed violently down the middle, the monument yells as much as it pleads about an ongoing crisis. Reaching upwards it acknowledges the blinding vastness of the sky. Upon moving inside, the smell of ash hangs in the air. Meandering through the columns you run your finger against their charred exteriors. Descending through the floor plate, you linger along the wall before hesitantly stepping under the wound. The weight of the void is immense. Outside the sun shines warmly on a small maple sapling.