Křídla Pána času (The Wings of the Lord of Time)
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Description
He writes. Time is running out.
A giant clock, a top hat, a city on the water. The pages of the diary tear away and turn into birds. Some still bear writing. The sky takes them before the sentence ends.
From a distance, half gold, half blue.
Up close, Roman numerals, a reflection in the water, a signature. Into the living room and study. It wants height; the clock and the city both need air.
The original.