The Village on the Lake

Some places hold their breath, and Hallstatt is one of them. The village does not sit beside the lake so much as lean into it, houses stacked one above the other beneath mountains that lose their tops in the cloud.

I remember the quiet most of all — dark rooftops sloping toward water so still it seemed to be remembering the sky. A church spire rose between pine branches, snow dusting the peaks behind it, and for a moment nothing moved. You stand at the edge of a lake like this and feel suddenly small, and grateful for it.

I left before I was ready, the way you always do from places that ask nothing of you and give everything.