With its rocks, trees, nightly creatures, by departing astronauts seen from great distance , the mountain is like the living god stranded, left behind in the confinement of our imaginary reality.
Maybe something menacing underlies all living things, but luckily, it only lasts for a brief interval as we appear in this guise; then again we are free at the foothills of the immense plateaus close to the stars.
Other livings gods, even greater, darker, occulter await inside of us, while the departing astronauts look back —as if they could, once, return Home.
Der Zauberberg by Boris Gregoric, oil/canvas, ca. 1998