At first it gives like a sponge, elastically, and you think you’ll only make an impression and get pushed back. But then the web of spun sugar wilts a little from the heat of your body, allowing you to sink softly into the pink cloud. Your weight does the rest and now you’re really pushing through. Handfuls of the stuff turn into tough strands under your sweating palms and feet. You swing back and forth, enjoying yourself, glad you decided to do this at last, but you’re starting to notice that the walls melt if you don’t keep moving. You climb higher and higher, your mouth full of sweet bits, hoping you don’t bump into the paper cone in the center. The texture keeps changing, sometimes open and lacy, other times tightly interknit. You admire the delicate shades of rose and mauve, but you’re aware of a few unsightly knots of unspun sugar, or are those gnats caught in the sticky web? Now there’s a patch above you that looks wet. A mouth is eating down to you, the greedy lips puckering and sucking.