A Dream -- Tuesday 7 July

I dance with Euclid in a golden field of sunflowers, their petals rustling like parchment scrolls. We're chasing the shadows of clouds as they march across the sky, each one a step in his infinite proof. I feel the rhythm of the world's heartbeat in my feet, a tempo that echoes the expansion and contraction of empires. The wind whips around us, its gusts like the breath of anxious phantoms, whispering tales of colonial conflict and abdominal pain. Yet, in this dance, even anxiety becomes a somatization of beauty, a von Neumann set adding depth to our steps.