Megosztott hang

The deeper they go… the quieter it becomes… Not silent… never truly silent… But softer… as if the world above… has slowly faded away… The sounds of the city… the voices… the footsteps… the distant calls of merchants… All of it… disappears… Replaced… by something slower… The steady drip… of water from stone… The faint movement… of unseen creatures… And the quiet… breathing… of the workers themselves… In this place… even a small sound… feels important… A shift of a foot…