That crane looks like it’s waiting for a job interview it forgot to prepare for.

The crane rose like a forgotten monument to ambition. Its metal frame bore the scars of years spent lifting burdens heavier than its own existence. Rust had crept into its joints like an uninvited guest that refused to leave. Against the sparkling water and polished skyline, it stood as a reminder of another era—a time when this harbor hummed with labor and trade rather than leisure. I walked closer to its base, where the concrete was cracked but solid beneath my feet. A faint metallic tang lingered in the air, mixing with the salt breeze. It seemed almost alive, this relic—its gears frozen mid-thought. Across the water, life moved forward in glass towers and ferry wakes, but here time had slowed to a crawl.