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Time. The enemy of us all. Hold a watch to your ear and listen. Tick tock, tick tock... those are the hoof beats of the Reaper's pale horse. "Half past eight, he's at your gate. Quarter to four, a knock on the door." Unwinding is the mortal coil that drives the gears to tick and toil, until at last, it rests, unwound, and we lay silent in the ground.