After Carnival

The carnival is over. Two days of dancing, of drinking and laughing, sunshine and costumes and music. This port town is tired, it's time for it to rest. But what many people don't know is that now is a rather exquisite time, a special time, as special as the carnival itself. When the town is extra quiet and extra still, the moment is ripe to take a tour and drink in the drowsy atmosphere. So let's take a little walk and see what there is to see. Before we set out, I always like to do a little wind down exercise. Tonight's exercise is a really simple breathing exercise. So when you're ready, let's begin. First, get comfortable in your bed. Now just bringing the attention to the breath, noticing where you feel it, in the nose, the throat, the chest, the diaphragm. You're nice and relaxed. We're going to be taking a deep breath in for four, holding it for four, and then breathing out for six. So are you ready? Let's begin. In for four, two, three, four. Hold it for four, two, three, four. Now breathing out for six, two, three, four, five, six. In for four, two, three, four, holding for four, two, three, four. Out for six, two, three, four, five, six. In for four, two, three, four, holding for four, two, three, four. Out for six, two, three, four, five, six. In for four, two, three, four, holding for four, two, three, four. Out for six, two, three, four, five, six. Great, now returning the breath to normal. The parade is over. Nothing left but quiet streets. You have the city to yourself. Finally, all to yourself. The street lights sing, gentle suns, copper candlelight, everything amber, everything gold. To the left are old mansions, to the right is a large unfenced park. The lungs of this strange city. You smell the park's flowers. It's night-blooming jasmines. A sweet breeze embraces you. It has traveled a great distance over the slumbering Earth and through the gently rustling leaves to meet you. Ahead, the long avenue is covered with glitter. Glitter that must've fallen from the costumes, from the revelers as they danced to music. There's no music now, only the sparkle of what has been left behind. Pulsing glitter everywhere, on the pavements, in the parched drains, on the concrete walls, glitter on objects that should not be glittered, on fire hydrants, on street signs, on the small huts where vendors sell coconuts during the day and sometimes at night, but tonight there's no one here but you. You pass a strange building. It is a riot of turrets, all piled on top of each other, with the artlessness of coral. The windows are leaded and set deeply into the walls. It resembles a Scottish castle, a king's residence at quarter scale. The stones of its walls are honey colored and seem to glow in the half light of the moon. Who was it...