Rising out of the mist amid some of the most sublime alpine scenery in Europe, a spa hotel built on the site of Adolf Hitler's mountain eyrie hopes to exorcise the ghost of the Nazi leader.
Below, on a plain still covered with a thin layer of morning mist, a herd of gazelles leapt and played, the young ones jumping over brush with abandon and then spooking as an even larger herd of zebras passed by.
A mist hangs low over the pond. The mist rises slowly, like steam from a kettle, while I glide, swanlike, while eggs hatch, while young swans come into existence.