I'm Longing For the Alps; This is How Lakes are Formed

Down in the valley, a woman is longing for «the alps with their spacious coldness», while she lies burning up in the heat of her little attic room, like in a coffin. In the feverish delirium, these rocky landscapes turn into what's going to save her from loneliness and final extinction. Up in the mountains, a hiker comes across the corpses of four people, who froze to death in the ice of the glacier. As much as he is delighted at first to have found some company, he can't do anything to wake the dead from their frozen rigour.

I'm Longing For the Alps; This is How Lakes are Formed are two monologues that refer to each other, mirror each other, full of ironic bends and double entendres. A filigree masterpiece of language, where mountains are identity-defining metaphors, true places of death and a plane of projection for an insatiable desire, reaching majestic hights while drawing the observer into a vertigo-inducing abyss.