Wild hearts: dreaming, walking, writing in the Swiss Alps
The mountain is shrouded in the mist, your gait is slow and your breath deep. All you hear is the gentle sound of cow bells and occasional chirps of birds and critters. One moment the trail ahead is illuminated by rays of sun, the next, it’s gone and you wonder, if the weather trickster is playing with your reality. It doesn’t stop you. You trust the signposts, you follow the pull towards what is hidden, awaiting beyond the treshold. Your entire being trembles. You are nearing the heart of the matter.