Where Magic Livesfeatured

On a morning like this, misty mountain air seems to be filled with silent magic. The forest smells of pine trees and moist earth, your shoes get soaking wet from the morning dew. It’s everywhere, trembling on a spiderweb, invisible at first, but suddenly exploding with iridescent glow when the sun hits it; covering the gnarly roots with a sparkly but slippery veil; slowly dripping from the leaves and onto the nape of your neck, causing you to squirm and laugh.

If you listen carefully, you can hear a pinecone hit the ground softly somewhere close. Or was it an absent-minded hobbit who climbed here to enjoy the view and lost track of time?

…The light is golden.

As we leave, we hear gasps and excited chatter of the first tourists in the far distance. The came to see him, of course. The fairytale castle: Neuschwanstein. The day is just beginning.