is for Rest Cure. For this I recommend the Pension Briol. It has no television, no reception desk and is unable to deal with credit cards. It can be reached only by the taxi driver’s four by four, the house’s own vintage Porsche tractor, or on foot. Everything is made of wood. You can sleep, eat, read, and go for walks in the forest; there are no other options. It has excellent food with no choice whatever and second helpings. I may well have dreamt the whole thing.
I have returned to Reality in the taxi driver’s four by four (I shut my eyes at all the corners) and now I am in Bolzano, in the Railway station.