Voltaire called you a watchmaker, but how do you watch? Useless or uncaring? You hide in the closet, dusty and old, banging on the tarnished brass pendulum that was once up to your standard of beauty. You were the original horologist, an inventor of time, a maker of the second-hand that tick-tocks around the clock, giving everything its own time. So a personal second is really a continuum of simultaneous seconds, like the miniscule duration of our lives. Time is spent and wasted concurrently, pulling and tugging from all directions, sliding into the future and out of the past, while somehow always remaining in the present. In your image, it is impossible to grasp, especially with this broken timepiece of yours. Rewind the clock, Clockmaker, or your world will get left behind.



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