Going into yourself, into the mud below the crust you enter an invisible world. At least invisible before you entered it. Barbara Hurd entered this world when she went into her caves, and again in Stirring the Mud
L. B. Deyo and David Leibowitz, in Invisible Frontier: Exploring the Tunnels, Ruins, and Rooftops of Hidden New York (New York: Random House, 2003) talk about this in different terms.
In a sort of modern version of the merry pranksters, they embarked on, visiting a forbidden location. Here's what they say about going into an aqueduct, from p. 3:
In the shadows of the city waits an invisible frontier--a wilderness, thriving in the deep places, woven through dead storm drains and live subway tunnels, coursing over third rails. This frontier waits in the walls of abandoned tenements, it hides on the rooftops, and it infiltrates the bridges' steel. It's a no-man's land, fenced off with razor wire, marked by warning signs, persisting in shadow, hidden everywhere as a parallel dimension. Crowds hurry through the bright street,s insulated by the pavement, never reflecting that beneath their feet lurks a universe.Digging down into the mud and exploring deep dark places isn't much different than going inside yourself to understand why a set of footsteps heard coming toward you was such a red barn.
What do you think of this? What are your ideas? I'd like to know. Post a comment.
Writing is, to me, an entrepreneurial activity. Entrepreneurial ideas are the life's blood of my writing and real estate practice. For entrepreneurial ideas go to www.hatman2.blogspot.com and for entrepreneurial real estate go to www.yourstopforrealestate.com/blog