Last Days Underground

I’ve been thinking about this for nearly two weeks now. What could be the best way to describe what we lived while underground? What can I say? What can I not say? The days and events muddle together incessantly, like in a dream. So many things have been born from this unique experience. Unspeakable in a sense: the words do not do justice rewritten.  Certain parts of this staggering stampede come back to me, while others less so.  It’s as if an opaque veil covers it all. We know, from now on, that it will take us time to completely understand what happened. Nevertheless, one thing is clear, obviously: a profound respect was born from the company of those we had the chance to meet while underground.  John and his group. An implicit pact, like a “non-disclosure act,” that now binds us.

It would be unfortunate to not be able to express what we lived. What we’ve learned from this adventure has moved us deeply. It was transforming. Unheard of possibilities opened themselves up to us, hypotheses full of promise.

It’s there, underground, somewhere beneath the freeways and speeding roads of the Los Angeles metropolis where this parallel universe moves about. In a way, it’s a new world.  In any case, it’s the exact opposite of the catastrophic or apocalyptic practices and discourse of those who believe in the supposed “end of the world.”

But let’s come back to my notes, they allow me to describe some scenes that were lived. I apologize to the reader in advance; certain parts will voluntarily remain unclear, and the names seen here remain as stage names.

Day three.

Still a little lost, we advance through the maze underground. From time to time, our torchlights shine on graffiti on the porous, and at times wet, wall. Most of the graffiti is typical, traces of previous occupation or squatting grounds. Others, a bit stranger, subliminal even, seem to be the works of a completely different type of artist.   All in white, complex motifs seem to have been created in white chalk. They’re ephemeral, fragile and fading away. At first we see geometric figures, traced with a ruler and compass, in the pi ratio. Then we see an octahedron (a big circle that brings together the concentric circles). A bit further, we run into the skeleton of a giant bird, almost like an artificial pterodactyl. “Luther Blisset was here” was written above. Just to the side “Live alone, die together” was crossed out with pencil.  Vincent didn’t seem to want to take a photo. And then, we had to move quickly, very quickly. Our torchlights had little fire left. What more, we were completely exhausted and famished.  It was impossible to know what time of the day or night it was, and the batteries in our cell phones and computers had been dead for a long time; The absence of natural light affects the general atmosphere.