From the day
Perspective: The Future Historian · Tactile
I run my thumb over the waxy, cardboard texture of a fresh box of Binney & Smith crayons, wondering how these vivid pigments will eventually color the maps of an expanding British empire. The heavy wool of my frock coat scratches against my neck as I hum "Ida, Sweet as Apple Cider," the melody drifting through the cold London fog that clings to every brick. It is a bully day for a clear conscience, yet as I grip these wax sticks, I feel the tactile weight of a world vibrating with the friction of new flight and shifting borders. History is being written in these paraffin streaks and the coarse grain of morning newsprint.