Clockwork has existed in a state of repeat for longer than any creature can recall. Everyday the same as the last, every pony as grey as the next, little more than living parts in a great machine with no purpose. No change, no variation. Everything a shade of grey.
Until one foal finds a spot of black.
You have piqued my interest. Read latering it.
Seems almos like ground hog day, which I loved. I hope to see more.