The darkness has weight.

The cold is consistent.

The sound of one’s own footsteps seems too loud.

The marks on the wall were made by hands that moved through this same space, held the same kind of light, breathed the same still air.

The distance between modern visitor and ancient miner is enormous: thousands of years, completely different material worlds, no common language or cultural context.

And the distance is also very small: the same body in the same space, the same darkness, the same cold, the same silence.