And of course, the greatest tragedy of each of our creations was their limited duration. Window included, just like I was taught (by example). I drew the large space between to illustrate the 3 steps: 1) the hand holding the slurry, 2) the wet sand dripping down, and 3) the drops of sand solidifying into a castle. Here’s a basic tutorial:Īnd yes, dad, I know that if I held the sand so high above it would demolish the castle below. The castles are wonderful and organic and amazing when well-produced. These are constructed by taking a fistful of very wet sand (a slurry) and letting it drip in a controlled manner from the hand. 1 1 I’ve since learned from Wikipedia that these are probably more commonly called drip castles, though a good number call them dribbled castles. More often though, I crafted what my dad (our master craftsman to whom we were apprenticed) had termed dib-dab castles.

In those nearly three decades, I built a lot of castles, sometimes in the traditional sense, packing sand into shapes and then carving out everything that wasn’t “castle” from the mass. I stayed near the sand until I was thirty-two. I heard the poem in seventh grade and the whole idea resonated with me-the fragility of kingdoms, the temporary nature of everything we are and do. And I liked bits of Shelley’s “Ozymandias.” You know, “two vast and trunkless legs of stone” and all that. I liked bits of “To His Coy Mistress” because it was absurd and, so, funny. I liked a poem an English professor friend of mine wrote because it mentioned Bubo, the mechanical owl from Clash of the Titans. That said, there are a couple bits here and there that I’ve enjoyed. There’s always been some obstacle between me and my enjoyment of what so many others seem to dig on.

Sandcastle by pierre oscar lévy