The waning sun cast a golden light o'er the mountaintops, and we breathed deep of the cleansing mountain air, blown fresh 'cross the Alps. A pale half-moon arose, casting its gentle gleam atop the snowy peaks, and we listened to the sighing breeze in the pines rise and fall away. High above, planes with their cargoes of hectic souls scurrying to their misplaced ideas of Eden drifted almost silently, with never a synapse wasted on who might be down below, living, growing watching the paraponts which like the leaves of Autumn drift ever down from the peaks into the valleys.
Night falls! The chill increases and we head downward, back to the chalet and into dreams of trains and cows and mountains... awaken to the sound of church bells which their glory they echo to every corner of the village, while the morning sun rises sharp, lusty, with the promised vigour of a new day.
So yeah, I s'pose it was alright.
3 comments:
Mate, you mention "...built from interlocking logs overlooking the most stunning alpine vista", I would like to see a shot of said vista.
i'm surprised my obscenely floriant descriptions doesn't convey as much, but alright soon enough...
well you know what they say about a picture mate...
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