On October's rare blue moon, a clandestine assembly took place in the old warehouse district of Elms Street, the likes of which have not been seen for decades. Witnesses, whose anonymity remains uncompromised, describe a scenario filled with muted ritualistic echoes. Peculiar artifacts were reportedly exchanged, crucial in establishing a link to abstract thoughts, like fossils in amber.

In a landscape where companies are said to flourish under the tutelage of meticulous horologists, questions are arising about the synchrony within dichotomies. Time itself, a malleable concept in the heart of Clocktower Plaza, appears generate contradictions of its nominal meaning. Analysts draw parallels, albeit abstract, to Kant's hypothetical ether that intertwines opposing temporal dimensions.

An impromptu exhibit bore witness to a collection of artifacts purported from the 1980s Japan, entitled "Tomorrow Belongs to Yesterday": vintage devices claiming to harness joy as a competitive energy source. Curators maintain skepticism about their operational purpose. Yet, the ambiance suggests an era where future and past danced in delusionary tandem.