I am walking along a mountain path. The path is small, but large enough for me to walk on it. The sun is shining into my face whilst I let my gaze fly over all those small buildings in the valley far underneath me. There is a little breeze, from time to time blowing strands of hair into my face.

When I am pulling back one, I suddenly see a twig in front of my feet. I am certain that it must have fallen down from the old pine tree next to the path. Slowly I bend, pick it up and have a closer look at it. Many wounds where smaller twigs or leaves grew from are exposed. It seems sad and reminds me of how brittle life is, yet I don’t put up too long with the twig.

I throw it aside and continue walking, when I can already see a little bank waiting for me, offering a little rest. The only thing separating us is an enormous tree trunk. But how to pass it? Should I climb over, around or leave it and return to where I came from? No, I’ve already gone too far to just turn around. The bench is waiting for me, and I’m waiting for it, so I decide to clamber around the obstacle. I hold on to it tightly, never wanting to let go, and let my feet swing around my body. Underneath a gulch arises and I start wondering whether my decision was the best, but I can’t return anymore. I close my eyes and set my first leg onto the safe path again. I managed it and as a reward I let myself glide onto the wooden bench. Satisfaction arises inside me, I have already gone so far, but I can’t stay.

I continue walking bursting with new energy, when I reach a fork in my path. Should I descend and go down into the valley? Should I walk further up along the mountain? The decisions become harder to be made every time, but I determine that it still is too early for returning, so I start walking upwards.

The path is getting smaller and more brittle every footstep I make. Also the mountain itself is becoming harsher, less trees, more and steeper hillsides. Carefully I set one foot in front of the other and continue, until I find a wall right
next to the path. I lean over it and look down, I can only see parts of the cliff I’m just standing on. It seems to intend to throw you off at any point, if not for this wall. It is meant to keep me safe, however, it couldn’t protect everyone. Some bent over too far, sat or even balanced on its last row of bricks. Their stories hardly ever ended well. The wall is marked with several crosses, each showing name and date. Again I think of how brittle life is.

I just face the path ahead, wanting to continue, when I hear a sound. I lean over the wall once again and see a chamois on a small ledge. It is roaring, triumphing about being able to have done the first step. It seems like the chamois wants to cross the gulch. I only wonder why doesn’t take the secured path…

Images: mountain path; fork in path