A narrow wooden bridge reaches into silence, stopping just before the water, as if inviting a step that may never be taken. The lake lies still and opaque, reflecting a fractured light that struggles through heavy clouds. Beyond it, the Tre Cime di Lavaredo rise like a dark presence—solid, immovable, almost watchful—their form softened by mist and distance. The surrounding forest dissolves into shadow, creating a quiet enclosure where time seems slowed, if not entirely absent.
