As the gilded hands cross paths upon a forgotten dial, think of the carved echo that slips through this interstice.

In the realm of melted moments, skittering phrases hide amidst the lattice of winding dreams. Seek the lost frequencies of unspoken tides.

If you listen closely, the luminous rift murmurs secrets of curdled time to those daring enough to attune their ornate spirals to the rhythms of stellar hush.

Let each pivot of the brass cycle, sculpt some tender yearning into the tapestry.