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As time pours down on the floor, I watch it lose itself completely and take the form of sand. Sand is all that'll be left of it. Time gone by. Time in store. All will be sand. I run around, looking for a beaker in my last effort to collect whatever is left of it but alas, time's not with me here. No, it's relentless. All the maths that it did about to turn to sand. All the rounds that it made, blurred.