On my dresser sits a pretty, filigree clock. The professor gave it to me for Christmas twelve years ago. Its time always reads 8:54. The little Russel Wright dish contains three retired watches, each one eternally stuck on a different hour.
I never wear a watch and I do not care to sleep in the same room as a ticking clock, but I do appreciate pretty timepieces.
Pearls, however, I not only appreciate, I wear them often.
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