Is there poetry in a landscape ? Does an image give the impression of poetry ? These questions came up when looking down from the Zugspitze at the Alpine folding.
It was a cold day with with warm rays from the sun. No winds, except at the border to Austria. We were lucky to spend a few hours up there at about 2960m.
This folding was soft and wild at the same time. Is it a solidified sea ? A petrified curtain ? Only the light creates the feelings.