Today I had to go through the mountains of the Black Forest (Germany). The problem is that travel through the gorge on foot speed, trying not to look at the break, it's not the most unpleasant. The most annoying thing - it's the spirit. Spirit of the Black Forest, crude, ugly and grim, rocks, overhanging the machine and the soul, cut by shards of winds, and dark pines make nervously swallowing saliva and wipe sweaty palms, softly howling in panic so much that I'm even afraid to stay on the sidelines and breathe. And today, plus everything started to rain after a pair of morning hours and the entire Black Forest completely curtained gofmannovskim fog, not thick tubers, and scraps of torn nerves, randomly clinging to the tops of trees, and for some reason, this fog was not a hindrance, but an invitation, as if remembering something long forgotten, a little creepy but very familiar, age was no longer breathing hard in the back, no stones crushed, and felt like I was home. Opened the window and turned off the radio, was traveling slowly and somehow came quickly, even too much, and try to taste a rare feeling, Vollkommenheit, dictionaries lie, it's perfect, but it is not, it is the absolute fullness inside, some kind of nirvana shtetl scale, in which all particles of the puzzle work out.
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