At the end of my suffering there was a door. Hear me out: that which you call death I remember. Overhead, noises, branches of the pine shifting. Then nothing. The weak sun flickered over the dry surface. It is terrible to survive as consciousness buried in the dark earth. Then it was over: that which…
The “Schwarzbach” (black creek) shoots out of a cave in the mountain, in springtime with a lot of water due to the melting snow.
Norbert Egger and his City Blues Band in Salzburg
Thumsee, Bad Reichenhall (OSM)
Corresponds nicely with Carl Weese’s City Tree of April 29
The shape of the trees reminded me of figures from the Kaktovik numerals.
