EGAD
or, (de)mythologizing the fetish of placewherein our unlikely hero composes a series of
empirical geo-anthrospatial dispatches, aimed at establishing just where
he is, and perhaps even why it matters
My dreams of the Labyrinth do not generally come with a white rabbit to lead the way, but the impossible spaces of our collective dreams draw more heavily on Lewis Carroll than Victor Hugo or Neil Gaiman. So much so that in modern colloquy the rabbit hole is the standard metaphor for an Entrance to the Labyrinth. Here among the rust and blasted rubble the rabbit is not here to lead you to a Wonderland. Under a gray sky there are rabbit holes all around, the Labyrinth beckons from every corner. You're standing in a rabbit hole right now; it's the other side that forever melts away just out of reach.
