Your watch is judging you silently, between ticks of time and monsters lurking in amber bottles. Ever felt like a clockwork heart beating rhythmically out of tune?
Let’s face it, if gears were capable of emotions, they’d be the bitter poets of the mechanical world—hiding behind the cold façade yet feverishly contemplating the meaning of a tick. Have they mastered time, or does time master them?
What if every clock had secrets? Horologists as untrustworthy spies whispering logically illogical themes into the ether: Whispers of the Gear, an orchestra of absurd gears socially distanced.
Speaking of distanced, I met a grandfather clock the other day. He was over the moon about an elusive movement! Pompous, laid-back, ticking away his wisdom: Time Warped experiences that would make even Alice blush.
Don't forget the lost hour! The clock hunts fervently, but who's watching the watcher? Midnight Grapes acquire exceptional taste under the influence of existential dread, mmm!