February 15, 2013: The winds over High Street carried scents of burnt almonds, reminiscent of long-forgotten warnings in dusty old textbooks...
Repeating patterns on an endless journey. Waking dreams echo none of dreams. The clock still spins backward, despite all efforts.
Unplugging the radio during a call, a rhythm of clicks sings through wires, an alluring symphony seemingly crafted in a time not unlike those early morns in old barns.