The air is still. Here, in the tunnels, it’s quiet.

Occasionally, the sound of a water droplet bursting feebly onto

stone echoes through the chamber. Somewhere, somehow, moisture is getting

in. But for the most part, it’s dry. We are

safe, underground, in the comforting darkness. We are perfectly safe

here and can sleep as securely as if we were

in a palace.  Small arms fire continues outside. We light

a simple candle. Frescoes of great age are found on

the walls. The enchantment of the images in the dim

light bewilders. The dull sound of distant explosions is unrelenting.

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Paraphrases from the article “The Lost Tunnels Buried Deep beneath the UK” by Chris Baraniuk and the book The Outhouse War and Other Kibbutz Stories
by Shimon Camiel.

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