In a not-so-distant future, humanity stands atop the relics of its own ambition. The cities we build today—proud towers of glass and concrete—have become silent monuments of a world that once was. Instead of demolishing the past, we build over it, layer after layer, as if trying to bury the ghosts of our own decisions. The ground we once walked on is no longer the beginning but the end—our zero has shifted upwards.

In this imagined dystopia, the present becomes a graveyard, a decaying scaffold for a fragile hope. Above the ruins, a new world rises—not necessarily better, but born from necessity. The architectural landscape tells this tale: a detailed sectional cut through time, revealing past decay, present confusion, and future struggle. Three figures stand at three heights—each isolated in their time, yet connected through the fabric of memory, loss, and evolution.

This drawing isn’t merely a representation—it is an excavation. A search for meaning in ruins, a quiet questioning of progress. The lines, textures, and shadows don’t just tell a story; they haunt it. Because in this future, we don’t move on—we build over. And in doing so, we inherit the burden of everything beneath.