A Dream -- Monday 24 August

I'm dancing with Archimedes in a moonlit square of vintage radio static. His ginger fur glows like sunlit cobblestones under Schwarzschild's gaze, while pigeons in top hats watch us from their perches on piano keys. Stardust shadows pirouette around us as stars resonate like midnight melodies played by Galileo's laughter. The scent of blooming flowers and Earl Grey seeps into our skin, whispering secrets only cobblestones can tell.