A Sliver of Germany
Wispy clouds shrouded the lush rolling hills like a shifting chiffon curtain - a tenuous link between an overcast sky and a rain-soaked earth. They were mercurial: bounding down the slopes one moment and scudding over the hill-tops next. Dark green bushy trees straddled the skiing tracks that ran along the slopes, now in quietude after the winter hustle and bustle. Little cottages at the foothills huddled together between swathes of young grass, occasionally interspersed by a lonely tree, wistfully looking at the hills and houses. Faint rays of a feeble sun fanned from an opening in the sky like a divine eye peeking into the temporal world. Far away, atop a stony cliff, amidst the hoary clouds, sat the turriferous *Neuschwanstein Castle like a silent witness of time; time that had apparently come to a halt in this part of the country. Nothing moved here except the seasons. It was monumental, magnificent, and magical, yet no more than a mere glinting speck enfolded by the endless folds of interlacing hills.
*pronounced as noy-shwan-shtein
Picture courtesy: the tallest friend from our cohort at school, now settled in Germany.
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