As I scaled closer to the peak I felt a little relief. I had to force myself up to the last steps. The rise had been so hard I had to rest. I sat on the higest point of the summit, dug up my diary and started writing:
"The red sun is setting behind the mountains turning everything into burning flames.
The only thing that seems to keep its shape is a small river that meanders into the pass.
A dark silk covers the valley. It is slowly rising up over the slopes, eventually rocking the whole mountainrange into a calm sleep."
"The red sun is setting behind the mountains turning everything into burning flames.
The only thing that seems to keep its shape is a small river that meanders into the pass.
A dark silk covers the valley. It is slowly rising up over the slopes, eventually rocking the whole mountainrange into a calm sleep."
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