Werner Herzog, one of the most renowned German directors of the
twentieth century, set out on a walk across Europe to visit his friend
Lotte Eisner, a well respected film critic, who he believed to be dying.

Walked in another direction this morning, to a tract on the eastern
edge of town, where the sun scorched a mountain's summit with
the math of ninety-three million miles apart.

Truck’s road horn bellows over fields, disturbing a conference of
crows. I am on the path taken thousands of years ago by Milling
Stone People, who didn't speak
this simultaneous sense of deeper
and deeper recesses of oneiric inwardness within the stillness of the
stone, and
the name we have given them.

'There are many, many worlds,' he told me.
'One day you will see that the many worlds
are separated by little more than a dream.'

A crow lands. Its black iridescent feathers reflect Icarus' jaunticed
eye seeing the
"herded mountains, streaming in the morning."