Tuesday, December 15, 2009
H descended the manhole ladder first, followed by K. Both with lights mounted to helmets. How far down does this go, H asked. Not sure, said K. Countless rungs. The air musty, old. Their voices became funneled echoes. They reached a point where the daylight above became a pinpoint. H stopped. Here, he thought, eyes closed, his mind on home. K tapped on his helmet. Keep moving. The world above invisible, ruins.
- ▼ December (16)