In the white empty space, a statue of a clock strikes the eye. The metamorphosis of time into a monster. The beast begins anew.

The solitary mechanical arm slowly but surely immerses itself in the hours, and at the same time it disturbs the rhythm of the day.

For the rest of the day, the immobility of the arm in its daylight subterranean activity, and the perfected and unrestrained speed of the machinery, are sufficient to evoke the passenger’s uneasy acquiescence to the hours of the day.