Everyone goes a little mad in their own way.

Some collect bottle caps, others talk to their plants, and some people move out of cities just to paint landscapes no one will ever see. But when you live in an apartment, your imagination is often boxed in by walls and social etiquette. There are limits — literal and metaphorical.

But once you step onto a property with a backyard?

Everything changes.

That’s when the ideas begin to breathe. And sometimes, those ideas grow into something that makes the whole neighborhood whisper.

A Man, a Backyard, and a Concrete Ring
Liam had always seemed like an average guy. Quiet, polite, well-read. A freelance engineer who moved into the suburbs for a slower pace and a bit of green space.

Then one Monday morning, a crane truck pulled up in front of his house.

It unloaded a massive concrete ring, roughly two meters in diameter. Not horizontal — vertical. People across the street watched as Liam paced around it, studied the angle of sunlight, and then called in a small excavator.

What followed was a week of digging. Deep. Very deep.

And no one had any idea why.

Theories Multiply
Speculation bloomed like weeds.

— “It’s a stormwater tank.”
— “He’s building a bunker. For sure.”
— “He’s part of a doomsday cult. I saw him reading conspiracy blogs.”
— “I bet it’s something illegal. Or at least weird.”

Liam said nothing. He waved to neighbors, smiled, and went back to work. He lowered the concrete ring into the hole he’d dug, reinforced it with gravel, then sealed it in place. On top, he laid perfectly aligned stone tiles, as if completing a patio.

At the center, he left only one thing visible: a small metal hatch.

Suspicion Turns to Curiosity
The neighborhood watched. And waited.

Days passed.

Then came the next strange detail: steam. Every other evening, Liam would go out, open the hatch, and let out a thick cloud of vapor. Sometimes he’d disappear into it for 30 or 40 minutes, only to reappear damp and calm.

Someone claimed they saw him with a thermometer. Another said he was installing wiring underground. One neighbor even thought they heard chanting.

It became the street’s favorite mystery.

Until, one evening, someone asked Liam directly.

And this time, he answered.

The Reveal
“It’s a vertical sauna,” Liam said simply, as if that explained everything.

People blinked. “A what?”

“A sauna. Built underground. Custom-designed. I’ve been working on it for three years.”

He went on to explain.

A Different Kind of Escape
Liam had always been fascinated by thermal design. While others dreamed of building wine cellars or rooftop patios, he dreamed of a perfect, soundless, subterranean heat chamber — a place where he could sit, in total isolation, no phone, no notifications, no interruptions.

The concrete ring formed the core of the sauna. Inside, he installed heat-resistant wood, vapor-insulated walls, a low-voltage lighting system, and a steam inlet connected to an external generator. The chamber could hold exactly one person, upright, with enough space to breathe, sweat, and be alone.

Not alone in a sad way — alone in a deliberate way.

Why?
Someone asked, “Why not just go to a spa?”

Liam smiled. “Because I didn’t want a spa. I wanted a space that belongs to no one else. A place where I’m not expected to talk or smile or tip or think. Just heat and silence and dark. That’s all.”

It wasn’t about luxury.

It was about removal.

About disconnecting in a world that’s constantly pinging and vibrating and demanding.

The Neighborhood Reacts
The story spread quickly. First on the local Facebook group, then Reddit, then a lifestyle blog picked it up. Soon, Liam’s underground sauna was an internet curiosity.

But more interesting was what happened next: other people began to ask themselves what kind of space they would build if there were no limits.

Not everyone wanted a sauna. But someone built a private reading room inside a shipping container. Another turned a shed into a soundproof music cave. One neighbor just planted a circle of trees with a bench in the center.

Inspired not by imitation, but by the reminder that it’s okay to create something just for yourself.