From Tegelberg, where the air blows free and clear, a carpet of green, blue and light opens up. Deep below, the villages of Schwangau and Waltenhofen rest, sheltered between gentle hills, as if listening to the whispers of times gone by. The fields lie like brushstrokes of tranquillity, carefully drawn by human hands, blessed by the morning dew.
Lake Hopfensee glistens in the young day, a mirror of the sky lost in delicate veils of mist. Lake Forggensee stretches out beside it, wide and still, as if breathing the rhythm of the earth itself. And further to the west, embraced by forest and meadows, the Bannwaldsee lake sleeps - a hidden eye that draws the clouds and releases them again.
Above it all, the light wanders, silver, gold, then cool as glass. The gaze wanders to the edge of the distance, where sky and land meet. It is as if time is holding its breath - and only the wind tells of the eternal cycle between mountain and valley, water and sky, man and nature.
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