Envision a colossal clock tower of stained-glass roses, each petal etched with cryptic poetry. At the tower’s peak, a woman’s figure leans out, her hair woven into strands of midnight lace that drift on a windless breeze. When she inhales, the entire tower hums with the echo of distant violins; when she exhales, shards of rose-tinted light dance across the courtyard below, painting every stare with a longing no one can name.