Furtwangen im Schwarzwald (Baden-Württemberg, Germany)
The fog swallows much and yet opens a world of which I have buried one thing or another deep within me. It has never dissolved, I have never freed myself from it, but it remained in me like an invisible weight that made my daily existence more difficult.
The fog is omnipresent. It greets me in the morning and stays the entire day. In the darkness it is heavy, opaque, unconquerable. If I find no way out, it swallows me. It tears open depths within me in which I sink completely. Depths of cold loneliness, a dull emptiness, and an existential state of being lost.
For a brief window of time it dissolves. It is up there on the mountain, the highest point in this region. The place I have visited so often to find a source of strength within me in the stillness of nature, to be able to master this life. It was sacred to me. My temple. My cathedral. The nearest point between me and the universe.
There a radiant blue sky greets me, beneath which a white blanket of clouds floats — soft and gentle, as if one could lie down on it — and through which the forested hills of the smaller mountains emerge. Deep dark treetops of a coniferous forest, whose beauty becomes apparent to me again.
I had set out to do quite a bit. Each of the four days was scheduled. I wanted to spend time with my parents, walk in the surrounding forests, and meet with friends. I wanted to have time for myself, to look within and reflect. All of this I did.
Coming back is always a journey into the past. I grew up in this place, but I had to leave to mature and become an adult. The environment offered me few opportunities for that. Not immediately, but already after the first day is behind me, I feel the confinement that once held me captive like in a cocoon from which I had to free myself.
I also relive much that I have repressed. So much lies in these memories, and so much is brought back to life. Like the joy at the sight of the wide horizon up on the mountain. Or the loneliness in the darkness of a foggy day as I drive aimlessly around the area.
Or the melancholy about the time that has passed and the friendships that have been lost as I walk past the buildings of my old university. My heart is filled with joy about what I experienced and with sadness about what is gone forever. So much fits into four days, which I didn't expect after all. And for that I am grateful.
The fog swallows much and yet opens a world of which I have buried one thing or another deep within me. It has never dissolved, I have never freed myself from it, but it remained in me like an invisible weight that made my daily existence more difficult.
The fog is omnipresent. It greets me in the morning and stays the entire day. In the darkness it is heavy, opaque, unconquerable. If I find no way out, it swallows me. It tears open depths within me in which I sink completely. Depths of cold loneliness, a dull emptiness, and an existential state of being lost.
For a brief window of time it dissolves. It is up there on the mountain, the highest point in this region. The place I have visited so often to find a source of strength within me in the stillness of nature, to be able to master this life. It was sacred to me. My temple. My cathedral. The nearest point between me and the universe.
There a radiant blue sky greets me, beneath which a white blanket of clouds floats — soft and gentle, as if one could lie down on it — and through which the forested hills of the smaller mountains emerge. Deep dark treetops of a coniferous forest, whose beauty becomes apparent to me again.
I had set out to do quite a bit. Each of the four days was scheduled. I wanted to spend time with my parents, walk in the surrounding forests, and meet with friends. I wanted to have time for myself, to look within and reflect. All of this I did.
Coming back is always a journey into the past. I grew up in this place, but I had to leave to mature and become an adult. The environment offered me few opportunities for that. Not immediately, but already after the first day is behind me, I feel the confinement that once held me captive like in a cocoon from which I had to free myself.
I also relive much that I have repressed. So much lies in these memories, and so much is brought back to life. Like the joy at the sight of the wide horizon up on the mountain. Or the loneliness in the darkness of a foggy day as I drive aimlessly around the area.
Or the melancholy about the time that has passed and the friendships that have been lost as I walk past the buildings of my old university. My heart is filled with joy about what I experienced and with sadness about what is gone forever. So much fits into four days, which I didn't expect after all. And for that I am grateful.