Enveloped in the cool darkness, your eyes adjust in wonderment to the Galaxy above them. Beneath the avicula- and calyptraea-studded vault, you proceed half-dazzled by the thousand glints of mother-of-pearl glancing off the curved walls. The conches' whorls, set into the walls as if to tempt your hands, direct you toward the gallery's innermost depths, and you feel welcomed like the princes of some minor Atlantis upon returning to their palace from a long exile.

Of course, once your back is turned, the children hasten to pluck the jewels nestled in the crevices. They stick out their tongues at the somber masks emerging silently from among the asperities to frown upon their theft.

You did not expect to find such a festival of colors when you arrived at the castle. You believed sand to be a monochromatic, dull, and predictable substance.

You begin to wish you had built more castles when you were of an age for it.