Last Saturday was International Pillow Fight Day, so I carried a rainbow-patterned pillow to St Paul's, and chased a boy through the feathers. The sky was saturated with feathers and what was once the ground vanished underneath a thick layer of fluffiness. People swung pillows at each other, in front of the cathedral, sometimes hitting each other, and sometimes not, and sometimes pillows exploded, feathers cascading, escaping. My featherless pillow survived though and I shall sleep on it again tonight and tomorrow night and probably the night after that, dreaming of feather-tangled hair.
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squirmelia