"Mm… grabbing, reaching… stretching, pointing… moving, ticking. Two hands per person… two hands per clock. Now there’s a pair of hands that are never empty: they carry knowledge."

"It’s over… But this is worse! Before, I was dizzy from the motion. Now, I’m dizzy with fear! I hate the quiet. I hate the calm. At least when you’re spinning, you know whether you’re gonna be spinning — I.E., you will, because you are. The quiet leaves you no such assurances. There’s a swelling tension in the still… electrons begging to orbit. Hands begging to make contact, to wrap around me, to rip me apart. To tick. To tock. To measure the passage of time by the droplets of water that fall out the faulty faucet. Those empty moments inbetween just seem to taunt me. It’s ****ing anxiety inducing. If the tap would just run, would just wash me away already… I must be sick. "