In an attempt to formalize the ritual of waiting, a clock was devised to leave traces of poems while it was turned on. The clarity of the traces is directly proportional to the amount of time one has to wait. The text engraved in the base is a poem by Pessoa, depicting concepts of time, and the futility of understanding them fully. Cinnamon is slowly dropped by the rolling cylinder, leaving traces on the street.
[I’d want up with cinnamon everywhere… but I like the idea of creating some art while I wait. I dislike waiting when it’s because the other party is late…]
Source: Chris Adler