Time is a fickle mistress, whispering promises of punctuality as it pirouettes out of reach. The clocks, those ancient sentinels, beg for your attention, yet they never seem to notice you are always late, perpetually caught in a moment that is neither here nor there.
Attention is a currency the clocks wish to barter with. They tick in mockery, their hollow chimes echoing through the corridors of your mind. Do you hear their whispers? Do you heed their call? Enter their domain and find out.
We stand before the clock, a ceremonial act of devotion, yet it offers only the same empty nod as yesterday. Are we its slaves, or is it merely a reflection of our own restless souls? Contemplate this in our philosophical enclave.
Now, the clocks ask again: Will you listen?