Even the mightiest mind is no match for time's tiniest soldiers.
A monumental stone head—eerily lifelike—sinks into the cracked desert soil as a line of ants marches relentlessly across its face. The ancient features evoke forgotten grandeur, a fallen intellect overtaken by nature’s smallest creatures.
This image explores the humility of decay. It suggests that no matter how powerful or brilliant we once were, time’s agents—quiet, persistent, and countless—will eventually claim us. The ants are not just insects; they are memory, erosion, time itself.