[Poetry] may make us from time to time a little aware of the deeper unnamed feelings which form the substratum of our being, to which we rarely penetrate; for our lives are mostly a constant evasion of ourselves.
T.S.Eliot
On top of the hill just behind our new apartment there stand the ruins of the old Castle of Gösting. When necessary, ten minutes are enough to get out of the madding crowd and find ourselves in the silence of the wood.