I Don't Always Write In Order, So

The Sensation Reminds Him Of The First Snow Of Winter, For Those First Few Hours When Everything Is Blanketed In White, Soft And Quiet.

I Tried To Explain As Much As I Could," Poppet Says. "i Think I Made An Analogy About Cake." "well, That Must Have Worked," Widget Says. "who Doesn't Like A Good Cake Analogy?

The Most Difficult Thing To Read Is Time. Maybe Because It Changes So Many Things.

At The Center, Where A Cuckoo Bird Would Live In A More Traditional Timepiece, Is The Juggler. Dressed In Harlequin Style With A Grey Mask, He Juggles Shiny Silver Balls That Correspond To Each Hour. As The Clock Chimes, Another Ball Joins The Rest Until At Midnight He Juggles Twelve Balls In A Complex Pattern. After Midnight The Clock Begins Once More To Fold In Upon Itself. The Face Lightens And The Clouds Return. The Number Of Juggled Balls Decreases Until The Juggler Himself Vanishes. By Noon It Is A Clock Again, And No Longer A Dream.

The Circus Looks Abandoned And Empty. But You Think Perhaps You Can Smell Caramel Wafting Through The Evening Breeze, Beneath The Crisp Scent Of The Autumn Leaves. A Subtle Sweetness At The Edges Of The Cold.