無名の池にはまらない

By chance, because of a car navigation error, I entered a wetland park that had been built to repair a collapsed landscape. Perhaps the design had not fully accounted for the terrain: soon after the park was completed, nearly half of it was flooded by groundwater and rainwater spreading through the subsiding land. Roads, lawns, and utility poles stretched toward the horizon before finally disappearing underwater.

Several large coal mines stand near this place. For the past fifty years, millions of tons of coal have been dug out from underground each year, burned, and transformed into electricity and into the traces of human life.

The high ground in the park is an artificial hill piled from coal waste, covered with soil brought from elsewhere and yellowing weeds. Standing at the top and looking around, everything had already become a sea of water. The villages, fields, and roads marked on satellite maps were almost invisible; the most distinct landmarks were the iron towers of several coal mines.

The land began to sink from the moment conveyor belts carried black, shining lumps of coal into the factories. In recent years the affected area has expanded rapidly. Pools of many sizes have appeared across the surface, many settlements and fields have been submerged, and country roads now extend directly into the water.