The penetrability of a castle isn’t to be measured with arbitrary attributes such as thickness (walls), depth (moat) or numeric strength (deployable troops). If a castle aims at withstanding not just the attack, but even the possible thought of an attack, it should solemnly detach itself from the urge to face the outer world. It should lift its historical legacy - to allow those dwelling within its walls the illusion of safety and self-sufficiency - to a visual plane. It should refuse to look and to be looked into. It would still have to come to terms with being looked at. It doesn’t have a say in that. But having embraced the ontology of the surface (Deleuze), having grown skin (brick) where there once were puncture wounds (windows), it would drive any assailant mad. It would hold him in rapt fascination, but leave him bereft of the possibily to rescale its features to a more human size. The castle would just sit there, arcanely oscillating between cursory scale model and monumental line.