In Castle, the character of myself recreates a narrative of a failed attempt at love. She builds a castle using sugar, melted into sheets of lollipop to build a living place as ideal as the extremity of sugar. Photographs show her building a translucent, distorting tower around herself. She believes that her chosen dwelling place will call her prince charming and a life of luxury.
As she builds the castle, she is also building herself. She begins her endeavor as an ordinary girl wearing ordinary clothing. As her structure of a castle becomes more believable, more recognizable as a castle, she, just as slowly, becomes more recognizable as a princess. Her old jeans become a dress become a gown. She believes completely in the dream that surrounds her.
But finally, her castle is no different than all unreachable objects of desire, the sugar is not strong enough to support its own weight. The walls melt and warp, leaving her in a sticky mess which forces her to realize her structure of desire is not sustainable. Pieces fall to the ground and shatter as violently as glass. What was once her dream is now a sticky mess around her. The sugar has left a dirty taste in her mouth, and her stomach hurts. Bits of the castle poke uncomfortably into her feet and stick when she walks. She has returned to her jeans, tiara dangling listlessly from her hand, the jagged combs forcefully exposed, ugly function poking into lost magic.
From inside the place she created, she watches the distorted world through the melting panes of sugar. It is distorted, but it is prettier this way.