"The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing." - Socrates
As I strolled through the desolate landscape, a sea of clocks stretched before me like a graveyard of forgotten time. Their faces, once bright and full of purpose, now hung limp and still, like the petals of a dying flower. The air was heavy with the scent of decay and forgotten memories.
Suddenly, a figure emerged from the horizon. It was a woman with skin as white as alabaster and hair as black as the night sky. She wore a dress made of iridescent feathers that shimmered and rustled in the windless air. Her eyes were two empty wells that seemed to suck the light out of the world.
As she approached, the clocks began to stir. Their hands twitched and trembled, like the fingers of a pianist playing a forgotten melody. The woman reached out a hand and touched the face of one of the clocks. Its hands sprang to life, spinning wildly in a blur of motion.
Time itself seemed to unravel as the clock's hands danced. The woman's eyes filled with tears, and she whispered a single word: "Remember." The clocks responded, their chimes ringing out in a cacophony of sound that shattered the stillness of the landscape.
I felt a pang of nostalgia wash over me, a longing for something lost and forgotten. The woman's eyes locked onto mine, and I saw my own reflection staring back at me. I was the clock, my hands spinning wildly as I tried to grasp the fleeting moments of time.
The woman vanished as suddenly as she appeared, leaving me alone among the clocks. They fell silent once more, their faces frozen in time. I wandered through the landscape, searching for a way out, but every path led me back to the same place: the melancholy of forgotten clocks.
In the distance, I heard the whisper of the woman's voice, echoing through eternity: "Remember."