After crawling into the depths for about fifteen minutes we started to wonder how big this place actually was. The sounds of children playing seemed to be echoing down to us through a primordial tunnel, growing ever more distant until suddenly we looked at one another when the silence broke through.

We found ourselves passing through and endless series of cubed play areas, slides, and tunnels, each darker and dirtier than the last. The floor matting became more and more tattered, balls of accumulated skin and human hair bundled up, first only along the edges and in corners of the cubes, but later covering entire sections of the floor or caught in the webbed walls. An occasional sock or shoe, forgotten hat or bottle, book or bib, deeper and deeper we went until we were not passing the debris of bodies and childhood, but bodies in their entirety. Skin gaunt and stretched over shallow gone.

Parents that wandered too deep, cut forever from the cries of their now orphaned children who were themselves lost in a sea of colour.

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