Monastery
Solitude
A long, narrow, winding mountain road curves along the rushing river.
It climbs beyond asphalt and onto gravel.
In tight cycles its path vanishes. In weather it washes out.
When the road does end, when it reaches its highest mark, it has found its place.
The building rises rock upon rock.
In a 13th century Augustinian monastery, in the quiet of the night,
alone with the sound of ones own heartbeat, bare feet on the stone stairs,
hands opening doors to half-hidden rooms,
the breath of those who wandered before lingers in twisting passages.