Deep, and cavernous.
Some light manages to enter through the doorway, but it can only do so much. The farther in you tread, the less and less you see. At around dusk, I leave the door open to watch the water turn pink and orange. By night-time, the whole place is pitch-black. I run my fingers on the cold stone walls to find my way in.
I live far away from the city, where the sound of the ocean muffles the noise of cars and worry. Take a boat in the morning, arrive mid-day, and leave before it gets dark. My heart is a big place. The ceilings are high, and they echo your voice, long after you have gone.
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