The catacombs ...

The day before we left Split, flying back to a land of clouds, we visited the catacombs underneath Diocletian's Palace - I had stared at the emperor's bust in the Muzej Grada - his shrewd cold stare was unsettling - he looked lean and ruthless - I imagined him, having ruled the world, retiring here, exhausted, to grow cabbages in his gardens -

The catacombs were, in reality, the cellars, or basements, of the palace - I was a little disappointed, in truth, not to see mummified priests, or poignant frescoes - but when we slipped past the siren who gave us our tickets, we entered a disquieting enough space - 

The air was damp, almost icy - the mid day sunshine of the Peristyle was replaced by a dim sad light - vaulted ceilings glistened high above our heads - galleries led off to immense underground halls - we wandered between massive columns of smooth stone - one half flooded hall reminded me of a scene from Stalker - I expected to see a hollow eyed man, splashing, very carefully, through the water - I lost all track of time - 

Flood lights illuminated some sections of the passages - I wondered what it would be like, to be here alone in the dark -

Even though I knew the gewgaw stalls were outside, in the bright sunlight, I could feel chill fingers, stroking my face -