Sometimes time stands still, and we slip into Limbo. Floating helplessly in its waters, we drift, half-asleep. Sinking into a trance, we give ourselves to memories and dreams. But time keeps moving. Inside, or outside? It whispers in the ear, weighs on our shoulders, rises to the throat, and beats in the chest. With the creak of a giant machine, time grinds through our illusions. Must we not, eventually, awaken?