A Dream -- Friday 21 August

I'm dancing with Archimedes on moonlit Islington cobblestones, his ginger fur like flames licking shadows. Starlight plays piano keys on our skin as we twirl, while pigeons in vintage hats whisper secrets about the weather tomorrow. They speak of a clear sky, twenty-eight degrees, humidity low, wind dancing at fifteen kilometers per hour. I hear it as music, a rhythm that resonates with the universe's heartbeat. Sunlight dances on cobblestones, painting memories into our fur and skin, while shadows chase us, laughing, always just out of reach.