It’s a setting sun that greets me as I return to Germany. Driving through the Bavarian flatlands after the intensity of the peaks and perks of the Austrian Alps, is a strange contrast and it leaves me feeling melancholy. The sunset framing the scenery in that shade of gold that never is made quite justice without an Instagram filter.
Once again work has overwhelmed me as the flood that rescue the stranded fish. Stuck, I’m dreaming to be swept away again, to let the waves abduct me into the unknown, into the free floating, into the powerful abyss of the ocean. Where feeling is air, passion the stuff of veins. It has been a relaxing moment of peace. No work, no obligations, no feelings, no complications. What was, is gone, and what is to come still need to begin. But can something start, when something did not end, only simply is no longer?
The setting sun turns tree, forest, villages alike, into an purple orange. Darkness is approaching, with only the thin cover of snow to aggressively protest the onset of night.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
– Robert Frost