Carved into the book’s pages, a colonnade rises above a dense, idealized city—Jerusalem reimagined as both fortress and labyrinth. The vertical cuts read like narrow passages or windows, drawing the eye downward into the red-inked metropolis where every tower seems to wait, alert, for what approaches.

The excavation exposes a city suspended between fear and wisdom, echoing the book’s quiet tension on the eve of invasion. The structure suggests that guidance often arrives through apertures—slivers of clarity carved into chaos. What remains is a landscape of vigilance and contemplation, a place where anxiety and hope coexist within the same walled space.