At one point when in distress, Piranesi - who's around 35 years old - flings himself up into the giant faun's arms to be cradled by him. Piranesi's favorite is a faun, faintly smiling with a finger gently pressed to his lips Piranesi thinks he means to comfort him. Many are filled with statues held in niches or on plinths, though some statues emerge straight from the wall, as if struggling to be born, he thinks. The halls are in various states of decay and perfection. Unfathomably, an ocean is trapped in the lower floor - the Drowned Halls its tides and waves come crashing up the stairs. But above the House, he can see a limitless sky with sun, moon and stars. Through the windows he has only ever seen courtyards and walls. Piranesi has spent years trying to find the last of these connected rooms, even though there are only three floors. The world - he calls it the House - consists of endless classical halls, like an ancient temple. It is at first a seemingly small, limited world - but unlike a person stranded on a desert island, Piranesi has no desire for rescue, or even the notion that he should be saved. He sees this world as beautiful, and he is filled with rapture as he thinks upon it. He lives in a world where the words for crisps, biscuits and sausage rolls exist - but the items themselves do not, nor does he seem to think this is odd. Our title character, Piranesi, is another strange fellow.
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