The tower stands as monument. When time mattered more. Factory whistles. Trolley cars. Shops.
Millers, miners, shop clerks, women typists, school children, government. All need the time told to them.
I never needed the time. Before or After. I judge by the wind and sun. At night, stars and moon.
Why time? What was so precious about time? Only when proletariat marched to the bloated aristocracy tune.
Funny. I should remember that history lesson. No need for history now.
The clock will chime. I will ignore it. I have many piles yet to go through. Many treasures yet to find.
Not nothing left After. Remnants of Before. When time mattered more.
Written, as a stream of consciousness piece for Sunday Photo Fiction, June 14, 2015