There are days when life seems to me like a gorge, narrow and lightless. To the left and right rise massive granite walls, so high that the upper edge loses itself in swirling fog. Limited left and right, the way back closed and only a narrow path that I can go forward, so narrow that …
Sequel to „Farewell to civilization“
I am standing in the valley, on the little hill where our campsite is. A small piece of security, amidst the size of the mountains and the unpredictability. A little home that we had created for a few days with the simplest means. The campsite, the spot where we cooked, the camp fire, to tell stories, from a world that seems to be as far away as if it were on the moon. Or even those from this world. A piece of home but also surrounded by high mountains, forest and expanse. With a few hands it has disappeared. Nothing will remember us. Perhaps the place where the grass is a little burnt down in the heat of the fire. Perhaps the pieces of wood which we provisionally once used for seating and another as support. Using simplest means, challenging creativity so that the indeterminacy of the surrounding things becomes a determinateness. Familiarity. A little bit, which stopped during the last days.