The blue-and-white raft is just waiting to be picked up again; it is a relic of an analogue world. A hot afternoon at this concrete wading pool used to be a chaotic symphony of sound. The water would have been thick with dozens of children, a bright mosaic of neon plastic rafts, splashing water, and the scent of sunscreen. It was a time when summer was a physical space you occupied until your fingers went pruny and your mother called you home for dinner. Now, the water is calm.

The crowds are gone, pulled inward by the invisible gravity of screens, digital spaces, and curated, climate-controlled lives. The world has grown hyper-connected but physically distant.