Surreal Flooded City Dream Countdown Timer

I can't tell if this is a warning or a dream. A man stands waist-deep in floodwater in the middle of a city street, a life vest strapped to his chest, and where his head should be there's an old television set, glowing a single phrase into the murk. The buildings lean in, half-drowned, strangled by giant green vines that curl out of windows and reach for the sky. A helicopter hangs somewhere in the grey. A billboard advertises a car that nobody will ever drive again. It's the kind of image that doesn't let you look away, because every detail asks a question you don't want to answer. I like art that unsettles. Not the loud kind, the quiet kind, the kind that sits with you after you close the tab. It makes me think about how thin the line is between a functioning city and a ruin, how fast the water rises when nobody's paying attention. Hang this somewhere you'll see it on a lazy afternoon. Let it remind you that the world we build is only ever one bad decision from becoming a strange, beautiful wreck.