I dream of timepieces that change shape and colour according to the season. A watch that is a forest turns brown as autumn approaches, blossoms effervescent wattle in August. Corresponding amusement at expressions for time. Time is running out as it scampers through the night across a clockface. Time is of the essence, as clocks and watches distil into large, disproportionate droplets of indeterminate liquid. Later we are in a city forest. A colleague has gift books that open upon glade statuary growing and changing shape. We must verify if these are Turners and obviously are the work of Turner.