the stairs go down further than you can see and they are only dimly lit by industrial lights that are plastered on the walls every few metres. the lights give off a numbing buzz and it smells like an underpass, it is colder down here too, the lack of warmth makes you wish you brought a coat to go exploring here. you take the journey down the stairs that are weathered from years of use but you still can see no sign of life anywhere apart from the occasional spider hanging off the low-roof. you reach the bottom of the stair case to find a hallway, at the end of which a rusty metal door, the paint chipped away from time. without much effort the door swings open and reveals a small shop, the shelves are raided leaving only a few empty bottles and glass shards left lying on the ground, the cash register has already been raided and the safe cracked open, the entrance is covered by a gate that you pull open with a bit of elbow grease

swoosh, the gate opens and reveals a whole ass supermarket, the whole this buried underground like a grave, you take a look around, searching shops, opening more gates and running up and down the now dormant escalators. though, something captures your eye; a small art exhibit, titled the 'Dallas Heroes' with many large handmade statues made of cloth and cardboard lined up besides eachother all with a plaque of information, you take many pictures until you reach the last one;

-JULIEN REVERCHON: FAMOUS FRENCH BOTANIST, STUDIED PLANT LIFE OF DALLAS TEXAS TO HIS DEATH IN 1905. THIS PUPPET ON WHEELS, MADE BY ARTIST KEVIN OBRAGON, AND THE PARK JUST LEFT TO THIS SUPERMARKET ARE MADE AND NAMED IN HIS HONOUR-

a normal enough message but what really catches your eyes is that the words "left" and "death" have been scribbled out in pen, it's lucky you can still read them through the black scribbled but you wonder why someone would do this.. and then you wonder something else.. where is the puppet..?