gabriela m

das ist ein schönes Bild

As we head back down from Mount Pilatus my oncle says to me: “das ist ein schönes Bild” (“that’s a nice picture”); pointing at a stain of sunlight that hits the mountains at the back, right behind Lucerne and the lake. “A nice Picture”, I think. Not a mountain. Not a pipe.
I look at the photos I took and he is not there. That picture is not there. Only random fragments of another uninhabited, nameless place I visited on my own.

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