Between stone and sky, where the wind tells stories of ancient times, the delicate red of the alpine roses blooms timidly yet defiantly. On the Koblat, high above the Allgäu, they adorn the rough ground with vibrant colour - as if the mountains themselves had a beating heart beneath the granite.
The view sweeps far across the cirque, past moss-covered rocks and gnarled dwarf pines, up to the Hochvogel, which rises proudly and angularly into the sky. A silent sentinel, a monument made of rock that defies the passage of millennia. Its peak seems to touch the sky, while summer awakens in quiet splendour at its feet.
The alpine roses crouch in hollows and glow like small flames in the otherwise colourless expanse. In the midst of the silence, each blossom whispers of survival, of light and of the power to blossom even in the barren rock.
It is a moment of devotion - between rock and flower, between eternity and the moment. Up here on the Nebelhorn, colours, shapes and feelings merge into a picture that is more than just a landscape: an alpine soul, captured in the light of a day that never quite fades.
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