Mew Mew stood at the gaping offal maw of a filthy meat market. Her bare feet crunched maggots raining down from rotting chunks nailed to menu planks.

The sellers shout “Cut ours two inches deep to reach fresh meat!” Others follow suit with slightly better measurements.

At her left, behind a curtain of tripe, she sees a gleam of glass. Having never seen glass before, the eight year old’s curiosity forces her forward to inspect.

A vast corridor stretches before her. The left side of the grand hall is covered in glass, each pane shaped like tiny wings. On the right the wall is solid and covered in dark rich woods. The floor is made of golden squares, each etched like henna, with warm lime peacock feathers.

The five story high hall leads her a quarter mile and vomits her out onto a vast arena decorated exactly like the hall, but these walls had ivory hooks.

There were hundreds of terraces, all the same, flowing down like rice paddies to a curtain of glass stretching from the bottom of heaven to the top.