A Dream -- Friday 9 October

I'm dancing in a field of golden fur, the sun warm on my face like a forgotten summer. The hairs, they whisper secrets of the wind, each one a note in an ancient symphony. I remember the joy of a little girl's first dance, the thrill of a new language, and the warmth of a long-lost melody. The hairs sway and shimmer, mirroring the memories that dance in my mind's eye. A storm brews on the horizon, a whirlwind of celestial pinballs, but here, in this golden sea, I am content.