Prometheus

Day one hundred and seventy-four, Georgia. I have to get out. Some days the learning and the work and the video calls pile up until I can't see over them. So: into the car.

Google Maps says the entrance to the Prometheus Cave is six kilometres away. Named, presumably, for the god who brought people fire. That will do.

„There are twenty-two halls in the cave. Six are open to visitors. Today we walk one point four kilometres through the underworld,“ says the guide.

It sounds like a meditation with a ticket.

At home I loved squeezing through small openings into old caves and abandoned mine workings in the hills. Down there is nothing: no signal, no light, no calendar. You and yourself and the cone of a torch.

The Prometheus Cave is, quite literally, a stroll. The way in is a wide throat of rock, and into it disappear a Japanese couple, several Georgians, some Turks and one German.

We know so little about the world under our feet.