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The stage is filled with the rhythmic, polyphonic ticking of dozens of clocks. ELIAS sits at a workbench, a jeweler’s loupe pressed to his eye. He is working on a delicate gold pocket watch. CLARA stands by the door, holding a messenger bag.
(Steps forward, floorboards creak)It’s been three years, Grandpa. The air in here is the same dust from when I was ten. ELIAS Dust is just time that’s settled. Leave it be. 7.2 210 Drama
[ELIAS freezes. He slowly removes the loupe and looks at the pocket watch, not her.] Berlin. They have clocks there, I suppose. The stage is filled with the rhythmic, polyphonic
(Slamming a small screwdriver onto the bench)Repetition is precision! You think your "art" is better because it’s messy? This watch belonged to a man who crossed the Atlantic. It kept his pulse when everything else was sinking. CLARA stands by the door, holding a messenger bag
[CLARA walks to a large grandfather clock in the corner. It is silent.]
(Without looking up)You’re breathing too loud, Clara. It throws off the balance.
I’m not going there to fix gears. I’m going to paint. I’m going to move. Everything in this room just... repeats.