Them finally return
Finally my beloved fogs are back, those cold and impalpable seas that flood our valleys, transforming the mountains into improbable islands.
Like hands with a thousand fingers, they sneak to rummage in the valleys and plains, trying to grasp the elusive, looking for souls to assimilate.
The entire landscape is transformed into a sort of book on magic, into a metaphor of elevation: the heaviest thoughts and spirits congregate below, the primordial broth where everything mixes and contaminates, the boundaries between the real and the dream become blurred, sometimes invisible, you can feel the icy breath of mystery and darkness.
But just above, the light shines with clarity and color, just walk, just go uphill, the most difficult and tiring route, but the one that offers the best surprises.
Thus, from above, one contemplates the game as a whole, one understands, the boundaries become clear again, the stars become visible again, the separation appears clear, the light always soars above the darkness. It is a landscape alchemy that involves our whole being, infiltrating like humidity through matter, to permeate the spirit, making it full of emotions.
Now that you've seen you can't go back, something in you has changed. Sure, physically you can go back to heaviness and mystery, you have to go back to carry on your design in matter, in chaos, but every time the heavy sea comes to freeze your soul, now you know where to shipwreck, you know that your islands are there, there waiting for you, to save you.
Now you have a map, and it's a precious treasure.
Noveglia valley, along the Santa Donna Pass road