Some things require that one get up very early or, depending on where one stands in these matters, very late. Timed to the task at hand, the alarm clock may yield odd looks from those that the bars and clubs have spat out, the ones that are drifting from oblivion towards bed. Every so often we may get a nighttime journey through moonlight and mountains. Sad flightless creatures, living in the shadowy depths of narrow valleys, we are trapped in a two dimensional world of black sky and blacker mountains. Only the clouds, torn shards of glistening silver vapour suspended between one darkness and another give any illusion of depth.
The endless beat that is the radio at four in the morning is replaced by the sound of blood pumping through veins and screaming muscles as the moon sets and the sun rises.
In other words, corn season – bring it on already.
The lovelys
(Vordere Karlesspitze)
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