Tries in grey, smoggy shades to exist simultaneously in an industrial, digital future, and a slow, deliberate, ornamented past, seemingly hoping as it trudges along in a middle-of-a-dystopian-novel sort of way, to even out to some acceptable version of the present.
minutes seem to drag on for days, while weeks are gone before we've noticed. Time is fickle and headstrong and frivolous at once, like the last wise, petulant elder of an ancient tribe, feigning senility to reclaim an adolescent right to the powerful illusion of control.
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