The show you are about to attend is unique of its kind.

Everything in this cinema of sand, where the lord and lady, if they existed, would be entertained, is made of the same material. The walls, the ceiling, the seats and the spectators in them, the screen, the scenery and the characters are all consubstantial. Those figures in motion are made of the very same sand as the screen. The possibilities are endless: they can exit the screen at any time and take a seat, while the audience can easily get up and become part of the film if they so desire. And nothing prevents the seats from doing likewise. Any one of these walls, the floor, or the ceiling can become the screen, and you may suddenly find yourself caught in the midst of a scenery of sand that has unexpectedly overflowed into the audience.

No one knows what to expect upon entering this room, but no visitor has ever left disappointed. This is generally where they realize that a sand castle is actually much more than just a castle of sand: it is an invitation to wander in a realm of unimagined potentials, where possible combinations are unlimited, where the base material itself is an infinite source of metamorphoses.

There are more worlds and stories beneath the surface of a sand castle than there are words in a dictionary. You just need to get your hands dirty.

Pay no heed to that sinister rumbling, it is most likely part of the show.

Go up to the screen and draw a new character if you like, change the scenery, alter the plot, make up a sequel, and be carried away by the inexorable fluidity of the sand.

Not without reason do we use a sandglass to gauge the passage of time.

To exit, draw a window on one of the walls, and jump.