My written response:
It was the most peculiar sign, a finger pointing the way and a laughing face, an inside joke. I entered the rock wall and headed into the castle. Despite bright sun, the stone walls were cool inside. Moisture clung to the mortar; darkness was relieved by candlelight.
I meandered through the chilly rooms admiring the fireplaces. I ascended stairwells with worn spots in the steps where centuries of feet had tramped before me. By evening I realized I was viewing the same rooms, the same heavy damask draperies. I was beginning to understand the sign, but I wasn’t laughing.