'The clockmaker used to go sit on the edge of the park on Thursdays, overlooking the Square. He'd watch the people for hours, scuttling about in the most peculiar fashion. They would weave in and out, aware of each other's existence only in the way you can tell a television is on in an adjacent room through barely audible charges in the air. Each had their own charm, but taken all in together, the edges would round and patterns would slowly emerge. He tried his hand at painting once.'