There's a sound to time at dawn—did you know? It's different from the time of dusk. At dawn, the seconds grapevine between moments like whispers at a masquerade ball. At dusk, they're more like secrets you'd share with fickle stars.
Ever peered inside a clock? Not the one hanging in Grandfather's study, but the one ticking inside your mind—a clockwork quaint and tangled, as intricate as the stories we weave: Trinkets of Time, The Wandering Wish.
Come, spin tales with us! What secret stories the gears & cogs could tell—if only they spoke. But maybe they do, in their own rustling way. A cricket perched on the minute hand, humming away in concentric circles; there's poetry in mechanics, make no mistake.
Distant Echoes
Silent Vibrations
Faint murmur
Step lightly. The floorboards of our musings creek with untold fairy lore and clock-faced phantoms.
Endear yourselves to the machinery, daresay they listen to your every breath.