I am a fine estate built of gold and precious stones, and only the richest, most fashionably dressed people may enter me. They dance to the music in my hall, and eat from my feasting tables. If you look through my brightly lit windows, you will see how happy they are.
Yet look again, and you will see that the people who are leaving my house are pale and thin. Their clothes are torn and hang in rags about them. Some fall dead as they stagger out, and very few get away alive.
I am the Palace of Pleasure, to be sure, but everything that comes out of me is poisoned.