Second after second, minute after minute, year after year, generation after generation.
Chronology: a sequential arrangement of events ordered by befores and afters. Ours, Time—ongoing, restless, relentless, and powerful.
(A milliner triumphs—he is a fashion icon.)
Trapped. We are helots, slaves of time. This tireless cycle lords over us. However, I will not bow to its gasconade. Will we inosculate?
(Come with me, and please don’t buy that hat.)
How shall we overcome? I suppose I don’t know. How does one escape the clutches of one such as Time?
Our strategy will be simple, for we are simple-minded folk. We cannot lose sight of the goal; there is no room for distraction. Yes, our way shall be markedly spartan.
(Alas, Time continues. And nothing under the sun can save us. Proof: the verdigris on a Clarkson roof.)