#hidden chamber

[sw1tchbackli]

They say you learn something new every day and today is my day. Did you know about Mount Rushmore’s hidden chamber?

[sakurastarkey]

I created my own concept for a Sonic Boom idea, basically a chamber leading to the Master Crystal which is a Boom version of the Master Emerald. Another idea I had that they ether could be separate or the Chaos crystals could combine and form into the Master Crystal… ether way I feel proud of this idea I came up with. 😎

[imperium-romanum]

Enchanting Hidden 'Sphinx' Chamber Discovered At Nero’s Golden Palace

Rome continues to be a rich source of archaeological discoveries.

Rome continues to be a rich source of archaeological discoveries. Archaeologists have just announced the discovery of a spectacular underground chamber that was once part of the Domus Aurea palace built by the notorious Emperor Nero. The 2000 year-old room is expected to help experts to better understand the Domus Aurea that once dominated the heart of the city when it was at the zenith of its power, as well as the art of the period.

Restoration project uncovers room by chance after 2000 years

The find was made by Italian archaeologists who were working at the Colosseum archaeological park. This is a heritage park in the heart of the ancient city that contains some of the most famous Roman remains such as the Colosseum, the site of gladiatorial games . There is also the Arch of Constantine and the Forum, at the site.

The experts were working on a restoration project chanced upon the chamber when they spotted an opening in the wall. To their amazement, they had stumbled upon a 15 feet (5 m) high underground chamber. The long-forgotten room, which was built in a barrel vault design with an arched roof, was once connected to the massive Domus Aurea.

Continue reading

[theknickknackblog]

Wu tang fans. Great sounding bootleg by hidden chamber. Well worth a listen. So well done.

[disk28]

[new-universe-daily]

King Tut’s Tomb: Officials 90% Sure of Hidden Chamber

The announcement by Egyptian officials is the culmination of a theory first proposed by archaeologist Nicholas Reeves. He came up with his “hidden chamber” theory while making a replica of King Tut’s tomb for tourists.

read more: http://newuniversedaily.com/2015/12/14/king-tuts-tomb-experts-90-sure-of-hidden-chamber/

[lookingforwinona]

Neil Gaiman's The Hidden Chamber from Fragile Things

Do not fear the ghosts in this house; they are the least of your worries. Personally I find the noises they make reassuring. The creaks and footsteps in the night, their little tricks of hiding things, or moving them, I find endearing, not upsettling. It makes the place feel so much more like home. Inhabited.

Apart from ghosts, nothing lives here for long. No cats, no mice, no flies, no dreams, no bats. Two days ago I saw a butterfly, a monarch I believe, which danced from room to room and perched on walls and waited near to me. There are no flowers in this empty place, and, scared the butterfly would starve, I forced a window wide, cupped my hands around her fluttering self, feeling her wings kiss my palms so gentle, and put her out, and watched her fly away.

I’ve little patience with seasons here, but your arrival eased this winter’s chill. Please, wander round. Explore it all you wish. I’ve broken with tradition on some points. If there is one locked room here, you’ll never know. You’ll not find in the cellar’s fireplace old bones or hair. You’ll find no blood. Regard: just tools, a washing machine, a drier, a water-heater, and a chain of keys. Nothing that can alarm you. Nothing dark.

I may be grim, perhaps, but only just as grim as any man who suffered such affairs. Misfortune, carelessness or pain, what matters is the loss. You’ll see the heartbreak linger in my eyes, and dream of making me forget what came before you walked into the hallway of this house. Bringing a little summer in your glance, and with your smile.

While you are here, of course you will hear the ghosts, always a room away, and you may wake beside me in the night, knowing that there’s a space without a door, knowing that there’s a place that’s locked but isn’t there. Hearing them scuffle, echo, thump and pound.

If you are wise you’ll run into the night, fluttering away into the cold, wearing perhaps the laciest of shifts. The lane’s hard flints will cut your feet all bloody as you run, so, if I wished, I could just follow you, tasting the blood and oceans of your tears. I’ll wait instead, here in my private place, and soon I’ll put a candle in the window, love, to light your way back home.

The world flutters like insects. I think this is how I shall remember you, my head between the white swell of your breasts, listening to the chambers of your heart.

[deimofobia]

The Hidden Chamber

Do not fear the ghosts in this house, they are the least of your worries. Personally I find the noises they make reassuring, The creaks and footsteps in the night, their little tricks of hiding things, or moving them, I find endearing, not upsetting. It makes the place feel so much more like home. Inhabited. Apart from ghosts nothing lives here for long. No cats, no mice, no flies, no dreams, no bats. Two days ago I saw a butterfly a monarch, I believe, which danced from room to room And perched on walls and waited near to me There are no flowers in this empty place And, scared the butterfly would starve, I forced a window wide, cupped my two hands around her fluttering self, feeling her wings kiss my palms so gentle, and put her out, and watched her fly away. I’ve little patience with the seasons here, but your arrival eased this winter’s chill. Please, wander around. Explore it all you wish. I’ve broken with tradition on some points. If there is one locked room here, you’ll never know. You’ll not find in the cellar’s fireplace old bones or hair. You’ll find no blood. Regard: Just tools, a washing machine, a dryer, a water heater and a chain of keys. Nothing that can alarm you. Nothing dark. I may be grim, perhaps, but only just as grim As any man who suffered such sad affairs. Misfortune, carelessness or pain, what matters is the loss. You’ll see the heartbreak linger in my eyes, and dream of making me forget what came before you walked into the hallway of this house. Bringing a little summer in your glance, and with your smile. While you are here, of course, you will hear the ghosts, always a room away. And you may wake beside me in the night, knowing that there’s a space without a door knowing there’s a place that’s locked but isn’t there. Hearing them scuffle, echo, thump and pound. If you are wise you’ll run into the night fluttering away into the cold wearing perhaps the laciest of shifts. The lane’s hard flints will cut your feet all bloody as you run so, if I wished, I could follow you tasting the blood and oceans of your tears. I’ll wait instead, here in my private place, and soon I’ll put a candle in the window, love, to light your way back home. The world flutters like insects. I think this is how I shall remember you, my head between the white swell of your breasts, listening to the chambers of your heart.

-Neil Gaiman