Life and writing, serious and humorous, old and young, past and present: it's all part of the fabric.
Where is this beautiful clock located? Can you back up a bit more and give us a little more context? As for the sense of power you feel, it must be like the metaphorical "winding up" of a story, getting it started, giving it the energy it needs to play itself out.
The clock is in the kitchen of a 17th century (?) cottage in Surrey, England. The clock seems to be a genuine old one, but knowing nothing of clocks, I cannot guess how old. I hope to find out more about the cottage and the village in the coming months.
“Maybe we’re here only to say: house, bridge, well, gate, jug, olive-tree, window--at most, pillar, tower--but to say them, remember, oh! to say them in a way that the things themselves never dreamed of so intensely.” --Rilke
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