Will it feel like Time put on armour, picked its metal wedgie and stood still in the corner?
While we negotiated the bends in the moat, the stones at the bottom or the size of its banks?
Or will Time give us the impression that it is Jester. Two toned colour seams with loose gold bells and a wickedly unfashionable grin.
Will it feel like all we did in The Great Hall was move checker pieces over chess boards? Just to reach the other side that was always there?
We were always in our Castle.
It’s just, it’s big enough that we both lost ourselves in it.