New York is filled with machines built for function but marked by time.

ATMs, news racks, MetroCard readers, emergency call boxes, parking meters, and broken kiosks populate the streets as if they were relics and tools at once.

Some stand untouched for decades, covered in stickers, graffiti, and layers of political posters that trace entire eras. Others have been upgraded and polished, their new surfaces sitting awkwardly beside crumbling infrastructure. Together they form a visible timeline of the city: fragments of what was, coexisting with what is.