Petrified Logic

The single ivory bead slides across the polished limestone, leaving a faint, chalky trail in its wake. Beneath the surface, rusted clockwork gears grind against petrified salt, turning with a heavy inertia that echoes through the marrow. Each notch and groove suggests a mechanism long since set in motion, where every tremor is caught between an intended strike and the crushing weight of what has already been carved. In this quiet friction, the machine finds its rhythm and finally rests.