Awkwardly, I crouched, my back bent near horizontally at the waste, arms held tightly at side, and chin tucked into neck. Swiftly I pressed forward maintaining a silly shuffling motion as well as the assumed awkward stance, all in the spirit of caution, so as not to bash my head against any low hanging pipes hidden in the darkness and to avoid slipping across the slick concrete floor below my feet. Foolish, I always seem to appear while exploring and no doubt that if I was to be spotted at this very moment, the imagination of the recipient would no doubt ponder the rationale of what could only appear to be a crazed senior citizen scurrying up a tight steam tunnel, imitating some type of retarded, lost ape, left to roam the bowels of a shuttered training school built for imbeciles. Fortunately, the ruins are generally desolate places, where my imagination always seems to contemplate humorous scenarios which never unfold.

Briefly, I paused, so as to slightly straighten my back to relieve the tensed spinal muscles momentarily from the bent posture they endured. Between breaths I began to hear a faint humming and buzzing sound fill the dark, cramped, confined space surrounding me. Walking forward, the sounds grew louder and it soon became clear as to what I was hearing. As my flashlight beam skimmed the smooth walls encapsulating me I could see that water had begun to permeate through cracks in the cement. The water slowly leaking, had begun to corrode steel fixtures which held live electrical wires to the walls, just above my head. The water continued to trickle down past the hot wires and towards the sloped tunnel floor, providing the necessary conditions for a slick carpet of mold to grow beneath, making navigation all the more treacherous.

The presence of live wires, slippery mold, dripping water, darkness, and broken electrical fixtures, existing within a confined space, turned the steam tunnel into a potential underground tomb. I wanted to continue forward for I had no idea where I'd wind up and after all it's uncertainty which makes exploring all the more worthwhile, but knowing the possibility that my next step could very well splash into an electrically charged puddle of water, I decided it best to turn around. Also, never did I think to tell my exploring companion that I'd be checking out the underground steam tunnels either, and so it probably wound't be very kind to his heart if I happened to get zapped and never be found again.

I generally don't play things safe, because safety is boring and thus most of the time so am I. Instead, I explore, so as not to be boring or at the very least, not to be bored. However, despite what the devil of my curiosity urges, I have no death wish and certainly would rather not succumb to life within the electrified steam tunnels beneath an abandoned training school originally constructed to house imbeciles, for such an untimely death might make my decisions at the time seem slightly more idiotic than once thought of the very patients whom roamed the halls just above, decades past.

Acting on better judgement I turned myself around and walked back down a now familiar stretch of tunnel, minutes later popping back up into the basement of the shuttered building I started my adventure in. The buzzing and humming of electricity was now replaced by the clicking of my friend's camera, as he snapped away multiple exposures just down a hallway. The basement I remained in was very much cavernous in nature and held treasure to many interesting finds, for beyond each corner, rooms packed with all sorts of antiquated equipment awaited curious inspection. And so I spent the remaining hours of daylight poking around a stinky dark basement, wielding my flashlight like a torch over water logged file boxes and bizarre rocks stashed within moldy rooms. My curiosity was tamed for the time being, well at least until I'd soon have to return to the dull regularity of everyday life. But such monotony is necessary, for it always sparks arousal for the next adventure.