I couldn’t figure it out.
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Forests, mountains and sky–somebody was doing some huffing and puffing.
I couldn’t figure it out.
Forests, mountains and sky–somebody was doing some huffing and puffing.
Late December 2020 in the northern range of the Swiss Alps.
I crossed the line.
What? Which line?
Did I stop wearing a mask?
Did I stop supporting local populism?
Did I walk the wrong way on a one-way-street?
No.
I stopped seeing winter as cold, naked and heartless. I stopped seeing winter as death to be abhorred.
No leaves? No problem. No sun? No problem. Huge landscape? Big time. Mountains, sky, lake. Along the shoreline in the middle ground and background, the big landscape squeezes three towns into mere nothingness. And, by God, I saw beauty. I had crossed the line.
Islands of trees in the clouds.
This is not augmented reality.
This is not CG.
This is not AI.
The clouds make these islands in their own time; and they disappear these islands in their own time.
Cloud time is not human time.