I stand knee-deep in the snow. Far up on the Schrattenfluh, all alone in wilderness. I feel the cold air in my lungs. Aside from my breath I only hear the noise of silence. The fog sidles over the fir treetop without a sound. With every second everything looks different. Technically I know where I am. Yet the poor visibility makes my pretended safety and my knowledge become more and more indistinct. I stump through the snow and collect firewood for the night, which I want to spend in a cave. This is my homeland; here I know the ropes. And still I discover new and unknown parts with every step. Ever and anon I pause, look and goggle. I want more thereof.