A reflection of something we’re missing.
And language just happened. It was never planned. And it’s inadequate to describe where I am, in the room of my house where the light has never been. Waiting for this day to end, and these clocks keep unwinding. And completely ignore everything that we hate, or adore. Once the page of a calendar is turned, it’s no more. So tell me, then, what was it for?
Oh, tell me, what was it for?” —Bright Eyes - A Scale, A Mirror, And Those Indifferent Clocks