When the confetti of the Brazilian carnival drifts down upon a city by the sea, the ancient palaces awaken. From their marble foundations sprout legs and talons, and they set off in a swaying procession, as though the streets themselves had begun to dance. Along the way, they "carry off" symbols and wisdom - books that give birth to new alphabets, music that kindles the rhythm of their march - and every halt becomes a synaesthetic tableau, where colour hums, sound gleams, and memory takes on scent and shape.The journey reaches its fulfilment in the Advent: snow and gold descend from the sky, and the palaces advance across the territories of kindness and the heart, treading softly yet resolutely, as if goodness were a land waiting to be entered and made luminous.