Once I’ve been up in the mountains. A litte Village taped to the steep slopes. Late in the 1930ties a serpentine road was built to reach the place not only by dunkeys and mules. Nowadays? It became an expanding location for too well-off urban dwellers, a faked world for winter sports and apres-ski amusement in tasteless settings.
In the last remains of the old village outside of a wooden barn I mentioned a cat. It was the Cheshire Cat. She began to talk: „Don’t miss the church!“ she said and disapeared.
And I went to the church. Inside the sun came through the small windows and threw its fairy light saturated with colour on a wooden bar and the church’s floor playing for a moment in eternity. I thought: „Thanks cat! What a beauty!“