I’m leaving tomorrow. For the residency in Berlin. I came to say goodbye.
[ELIAS freezes. He slowly removes the loupe and looks at the pocket watch, not her.] Berlin. They have clocks there, I suppose. 7.2 210 Drama
(Steps forward, floorboards creak)It’s been three years, Grandpa. The air in here is the same dust from when I was ten. ELIAS Dust is just time that’s settled. Leave it be. I’m leaving tomorrow
And now it’s in a box. In a shop. In a town where nothing happens. [ELIAS freezes
The stage is filled with the rhythmic, polyphonic ticking of dozens of clocks. ELIAS sits at a workbench, a jeweler’s loupe pressed to his eye. He is working on a delicate gold pocket watch. CLARA stands by the door, holding a messenger bag.
(Without looking up)You’re breathing too loud, Clara. It throws off the balance.
(Slamming a small screwdriver onto the bench)Repetition is precision! You think your "art" is better because it’s messy? This watch belonged to a man who crossed the Atlantic. It kept his pulse when everything else was sinking.