From the road, it looks like a cliff face scarred by time—ochre stone, wind-carved ledges, a silent mouth of rock. Then a light flickers on inside, warm as candleglass. A doorway appears where the mountain should be solid, and a man steps out, jacket dusted white with limestone.
He doesn’t call it a house at first. He calls it “the project,” “the excavation,” “a promise I made to myself.” For three years he carved this space with his own hands, chasing a childhood dream of living inside the earth.
Neighbors thought he’d lost it. He thought he’d finally found it.
What waits behind that stone door isn’t a cave in the old sense. It’s a secret that turns the past into a home—and it will make you rethink everything you know about where you live.
