In the dance of cogs and springs, where the clockwork heart beats softly, the echo of your laughter lingers.
"Tell me, O dreamer, how does the serenade of time intertwine with the soul's yearning? To understand the ticking, is to embrace the silence between breaths."
Once, in a world untamed by the rational, we wandered through fields painted with the hues of an autumn dusk. Our words were like the petals of a forgotten flower, scattered by a gentle breeze, seeking a home in the echoes of eternity.
The machines sing a love song, a tune both enchanting and sorrowful, for they too desire the warmth of a sunbeam upon their brass skin. Yet, their longing remains unfulfilled as they traverse the endless cycle of moments, a symphony played upon the strings of solitude.