He was a man of means, and of watches. Dozens of them, neatly arranged in mahogany drawers lined with suede. Skeletonized tourbillons that whirred like nervous insects, enamel moons swimming across aventurine skies, and complications so ornate they resembled alchemical diagrams more than instruments of time. And yet, when I asked him the simplest of que…
The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Watch*
Series: HOROLOGICAL ABSURDIST - Untangling the beautiful absurdities of haute horlogerie.
