The crawl space of the house we built on Lotus Island is three feet high, large and labyrinthine in nature since it was adapted to a previous footprint. When traversing the labyrinth on one's belly and knees the odd pink insulation that hangs down spookily, brushes one's face in the dark while the crawling, wiggling ,undulating movements causes cement dust to call up little storm clouds. As we do, we sense the sounds of fluids running in and out of the many pipes, ingressing and egressing to and from the house, giving one's hand a little thrill as the myriad of pipes softly vibrate in response to the flow.
Here is a world apart and alive, but connected to a house that credits little to its dependence on the vital and visceral nature emanating from this dark region. There is no area so underestimated in importance as this subterranean world.The heat, the light, the water, the ventilation, the septic system, the internet, the communication, all arise from the Action Central, the crawl space. I like being there because one is right at the source, the vital organs, where every thing hangs in the balance and deep understanding is supplied to the kinetics of the house. It is the place the houses all draw from and connect to the world at large. The umbilical cords are there, connected to the placental world.
And yet the realtors never sing the praises of the crawl space. The purchasers never celebrate the crawl space with its firm and anchoring foundation walls protecting the umbilical cords. No poet creates a panegyric to its footprint that serves the house so well, and yet is so unsung. Some of those of a more delicate nature may find it arduous and unpleasant to enter this dark world on their belly where the possibility of vermin, wasps, bees and ants often coexist. These dark adapted inhabitants won't likely adversely affect Action Central. They just know a good place when they find one.
My son-in -law and I spent an hour or so in the crawl space worming our way through the apertures of the labyrinth, necessarily prostrating ourselves to its beauties. Our exploration was like an exploratory laparotomy where you examine and admire the conduits and the vital organs in action that make the organism go. The crawl space is the mother of necessity.
Here is a world apart and alive, but connected to a house that credits little to its dependence on the vital and visceral nature emanating from this dark region. There is no area so underestimated in importance as this subterranean world.The heat, the light, the water, the ventilation, the septic system, the internet, the communication, all arise from the Action Central, the crawl space. I like being there because one is right at the source, the vital organs, where every thing hangs in the balance and deep understanding is supplied to the kinetics of the house. It is the place the houses all draw from and connect to the world at large. The umbilical cords are there, connected to the placental world.
And yet the realtors never sing the praises of the crawl space. The purchasers never celebrate the crawl space with its firm and anchoring foundation walls protecting the umbilical cords. No poet creates a panegyric to its footprint that serves the house so well, and yet is so unsung. Some of those of a more delicate nature may find it arduous and unpleasant to enter this dark world on their belly where the possibility of vermin, wasps, bees and ants often coexist. These dark adapted inhabitants won't likely adversely affect Action Central. They just know a good place when they find one.
My son-in -law and I spent an hour or so in the crawl space worming our way through the apertures of the labyrinth, necessarily prostrating ourselves to its beauties. Our exploration was like an exploratory laparotomy where you examine and admire the conduits and the vital organs in action that make the organism go. The crawl space is the mother of necessity.
RSS Feed