A Dream -- Saturday 31 October

I'm dancing with shadows, echoes of old tunes in an abandoned ballroom. The walls are lined with shelves of vintage records, their labels whispering tales of Illyria, of kings and refugees. Thoughts chase their own tails here, like cats in the moonlight, as I wonder if those long-lost melodies ever found their way home. There's a faint scent of Earl Grey in the air, a comfort amidst the haunting symphony of ghosts. A postcard from London lies crumpled on the floor, its edges curling like the city's skyline, reminding me of picnics past and the solitude one can find amidst the bustle.