The clocks spoke in hushed tones, their voices soft whispers in gears and pendulums. "Tell me of your love, the love that transcends tick and tock," one clock murmured, its hands poised delicately, echoing a lover's embrace.
"It is a secret, known only to those who count seconds not for hours, but for eternity," another replied, its chimes resonating with the warmth of a shared sunset.
Beneath the clock face, intricacies unwound—methodologies romantic and clandestine, woven into each tick, each pause between heartbeats of the universe. Clocks do not only measure, they remember; they recall moments where silence itself holds breath.
Journey of Winds