The winding footpath to the clifftop led through a thick forest. Only insiders foresaw the overgrown stinging-nettle pathway beside the mighty maple tree. Behind it, an opening. A sunlight-shimmering, insect-wing-buzzing meadow with a tiny wanderers’ restaurant. Humble, honest, homely. Tree-stump stools and tables of pale maple wood. People bathing in natural beauty. And above the small wooden cabin a canopy of light, honey-bright, corrugated panels, weary from the sun. Parts of which shine on in KÖNIGSWINTER.