Elsewhere, in the quiet provinces the artist can easily find himself
surrounded by melancholias. Lost in thought he sits at the secluded
windows of his medieval digs, a strange twilight flowing all about
him, and without so much as stirring he sends his daydreams out onto
the sweeping landscape. No one comes. Nothing disturbs his reverie.
An inexpressible silence rules the surrounds.
Robert Walser
