On second thought I'm glad I went to Camelot - it's a very silly place but the homophonic onion revealed a lot, a lot, a lot!
A short ludic interpretation of the following sentence from Veronica Forrest-Thomson's Poetic Artifice: A Theory of Twentieth Century Poetry:
"Contact with reality destroys her fantasy world, but not the poem, for she is more than a creature of fiction; she is an organising formal principle, and her abode has been chosen by the need to find a rhyme for ‘Camelot’."
Play as the EPONYMOUS LADY. Can you find a way to break the cycle of balladic inevitability???
Controls: move - arrow keys/click/touch ; interact - enter/click/touch