"A decrepit clock tower told the Byzantine hours" (Colin Thubron, Night of Fire, 2017).

We encountered a temporal anomaly in the city of brotherly love, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.  All four sides of the clock tower at St. Paul's Episcopal in Elkins Park told a different, frozen time.  As constant investigators of such phenomena, we carefully searched the church grounds for the source of the problem, sidestepping slippery acorns and dodging a fallen electrical wire by the graveyard.  The entire property is frankly decrepit, with the cemetery unkempt and the overall impression being one of abandonment.  As historic preservationists ourselves, the state of this 163-year-old church was painful, to put it mildly.  With so much disorder, it was difficult to pinpoint a specific cause for the temporal anomaly, so we looked within the name of the church itself.  "St. Paul's Episcopal" is an anagram of "as collapses tip up."  You will no doubt recognize that last phrase as a twist on the great Hermetic axiom, "as above, so below."  The collapsing physical structure of the church, having slowly fallen into decrepitude over time, is reflected above, in the clock tower.  "It is time for Episcopalians across the country to rise up" (Ruy O. Costa).

It's simultaneously 12:10 and 11:45 at this temporal anomaly in Sloboda, documented by Ira Paradox over at Flickr.  Though we weren't on location to discover the exact cause of the timely weirdness, we offer this photo to help hone the insights of would-be investigators of temporal anomalies.  The more clocks one sees that are "on the fritz" (Fritz being the German clockmaker who first went "cuckoo"), the better attuned one will be to time warps in the wild.

The "weight of time" that we feel in every breath looms upon us from the clock tower in the sky.  It's there, no matter which way you turn, as proven by the endpapers of the University of Maryland, College Park yearbook of 1952.  

Parallel worlds collide, though the times seem aligned.  From Worcester Polytechnic's 1965 yearbook.

Quite the leaning tower, and we think we found the photograph that inspired it.  From Park College's 1954 yearbook.

A haunted bathroom in the Solvang clock tower (and where the spirit led):

From Kladderadatsch, 1923.

This photograph may be used to facilitate time travel. From the Wisconsin yearbook of 1973.

From Cartoons Magazine, 1921.

"Night doesn't hurry time.  Clocks that seemed to gain during darkness were right and the blame falls on the stars."  From Hearst's International, 1922.

From King Time by Percy Keese Fitzhugh, 1908.  (We actually once spent a week in this tower.  The door to the clock mechanism is kept locked, which was our biggest disappointment.  There is access to the battlements, however.  The clock face itself isn't nearly as grumpy as it's depicted here.)