A Dream -- Friday 25 September

I'm dancing in a marketplace, Camden Market, but the stalls are selling onions, layers upon layers of them. I peel one, and out pops Flatland's square, wriggling like a tiny, geometric serpent. It speaks to me, "Growth isn't linear, dear Winifred. It's recursive, like this dance of ours." I look up, and there's Andy Serkis, his eyes glowing like lanterns, leading the market in an effervescent waltz. We're all stepping on each other's toes, but it's a delightful chaos, a collective hush before dawn.