You kneel and run your hand over the deep black carpet. It is very soft to the touch, almost like cashmere. It must be at least two inches thick, but you can't find the floor underneath it. And it's warm. It reminds you of the dry sand at a beach, in the morning, before the sun has had time to make it uncomfortably hot. And the way it sinks under your feet, without waving or shifting enough to make walking difficult, also reminds you of sand. But it's much softer and smoother than sand. And it has soft little tufts of carpet, all intertwined with each other, rather than loose granules of sand.