Delirium -nikraria- May 2026

The first thing you lose is the clock. Not your watch—that still ticks, a tiny brass heart against your wrist. No, you lose the sense of it. The difference between a minute and an hour dissolves like a sugar cube in hot tea.

Wave.

Instead, I walked to the Spire of Unwound Clocks. At the top, I found a room with no door. I had to break through a wall that tasted of gingerbread and grief. Inside sat an old man weaving rope from his own beard. He did not look up. Delirium -Nikraria-