A place for a


Lonely alps: How I almost died in the mountains – Part 1

Three hours of exhaustive ascent. I stand tall and erect, my breast protruded and head held high in pride; my head is shaven and with a jeans, jeans jacket and a simple shirt underneath I arrogantly claim the rule of the world. I look down from the Montscheinspitze, a summit of the Karwendel range in Austria, three thousand feet above the place where I kicked off. The sun lingers 2 remaining hours high above the comb of the surrounding mountains and, supported by a slightest fog, strikes light rays down into the valley.

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Intolerable pain will make you a tolerable person


I have lost my appetite. The reward of however tasty food does not justify the pain of opening my mouth. That’s okay. The pulsating and sometimes cutting sensation in my ear lets me sense my heart beats. They sound like distant waves on a beach; a pulsating hiss behind my teeth.

On a somewhat official scale from zero to 10, I define my pain as a 7 or 8. 7 is called “Very Intense”, while 8 is called “Utterly Horrible”. Fucking funny names, eh? They make me laugh. It’s a somewhat uncanny laugh, like that from a movie psychopath; my neighbors have been hearing that a lot lately since I got tired of crying.

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