A Saturday morning · four of them
Some journeys can’t be walked. This one, they flew.
They arrived that Saturday morning, four of them — three guests and a companion. The aircraft stood ready, green with its white lines. A moment to touch the plane, one last photo, and then it was time to climb in. Buckling up took a little longer; that was fine. Then the engine, the lift-off — and after a few minutes the cabin fell quiet. Outside, the Säntis, the Grosser Mythen and the Churfirsten drifted past. One of them pointed out of the window; another simply looked. After landing, it took a while before anyone spoke. Some impressions need to settle before they can be put into words.