I’ve always lived in the Alps, on the Alps and around them. Hiking, skiing, cleaning the snow that fell on the road taking to my house, or even running to catch one of the few trains that stop in my village. It has always been like that. Run. Go.
I’ve always loved the Alps. They’ve given me the chance to see scenaries that tourist form all over the world pay to visit at least once. They’ve given me the perfect background for my pictures, the perfect spots to take my friends to. They’ve given me so much to see form their peeks.
Today I can’t see the Alps. I woke up this morning, surrounded by a soft cotton-candy like sea of fog. Nothing else to see, except my hands, right in front of me. I am looking at the fog. “What a shame”. I won’t be able to do much today, no hiking, no cablecars, and no breathtaking views. “What a shame”.
Or is it? The Alps can listen. The Alps can give you what you need, even when you don’t know what it is. A break. Silence. I am alone, but I don’t feel lonely. Suddenly the sea surrounding me starts to disappear. What looked like an endless Gray curtain gives space to something new. A black outline appears in front of me. It’s beautiful. It’s my peace.
In Salzburg with Emanuele, a yoaliner, a new friend
Slovenia, Vitgar, my ibsession with foggy places continues