Timepiece feels like a small machine caught between functions—a curved base cradling a single projecting arm, as if it might swing, point, or reset at any moment. Its forms hint at clocks, levers, and instruments of measure, but whatever it’s tracking has slipped beyond minutes and hours. It reads instead as an apparatus for marking less visible shifts: a tilt in balance, a change of heart, the quiet click between one version of yourself and the next.