Aurillac (Cantal, France)
Between two grey high-rise buildings, a magical window into another world opens from the kitchen window. The snow-covered peaks of the Parc naturel régional des Volcans d'Auvergne throne there like silent guardians over everyday life.
For almost a week, they were shrouded in fog, as if trying to hide completely from us. But on this final evening, they show themselves one last time, as if in farewell, just as they had greeted us upon our arrival.
These mountains remain an unreachable promise, a dream on the horizon. Like so many longings in our lives, they remain in the distance - not as painful reminders of things missed, but as gentle reminders that not every path can be taken.
The reality of this week consists of concentrated work, of artificial jungle sounds against the boundless noise of the house, of a single excursion into the city. And yet, amid this seemingly insignificant waystation on a longer journey, there lies a small jewel that will remain: **Thé ou Café**, a shop in the charming old town where coffee tastes like future.
While the majestic volcanoes continue their silent watch, I take this small treasure with me - a memory that will accompany me with every future coffee. The winding alleys of the old town, the small boutiques, they were more than just scenery in the end. They were a promise that small wonders await us even in unexpected places.
The mountains may remain unreached, but they have given me something more important: The realization that sometimes it's precisely the unplanned moments, the small discoveries along the way, that become our most precious memories.
Between two grey high-rise buildings, a magical window into another world opens from the kitchen window. The snow-covered peaks of the Parc naturel régional des Volcans d'Auvergne throne there like silent guardians over everyday life.
For almost a week, they were shrouded in fog, as if trying to hide completely from us. But on this final evening, they show themselves one last time, as if in farewell, just as they had greeted us upon our arrival.
These mountains remain an unreachable promise, a dream on the horizon. Like so many longings in our lives, they remain in the distance - not as painful reminders of things missed, but as gentle reminders that not every path can be taken.
The reality of this week consists of concentrated work, of artificial jungle sounds against the boundless noise of the house, of a single excursion into the city. And yet, amid this seemingly insignificant waystation on a longer journey, there lies a small jewel that will remain: **Thé ou Café**, a shop in the charming old town where coffee tastes like future.
While the majestic volcanoes continue their silent watch, I take this small treasure with me - a memory that will accompany me with every future coffee. The winding alleys of the old town, the small boutiques, they were more than just scenery in the end. They were a promise that small wonders await us even in unexpected places.
The mountains may remain unreached, but they have given me something more important: The realization that sometimes it's precisely the unplanned moments, the small discoveries along the way, that become our most precious memories.