A Dream -- Wednesday 22 July

I'm dancing with Archimedes in a field of green that's thirsty for rain. His little paws twitch as he sniffs the air, chasing the scent of youth - petrichor, they call it now. We're in Barnsbury, but not as we know it; buildings sway like trees, their windows reflecting constellations I've only seen in dreams. A droplet falls, and suddenly, math finds form in the rain's trajectory, a parabola that sings a forgotten melody. I taste nostalgia, curiosity bubbling within me like a spring.