For my dead uncle
I had an uncle who was only ten years older than me. He loved the mountains and taught me to love them. He was very young when he died in a climbing accident.
He is still very much in my mind and in my heart. Fifty years have passed since we last met at Peter's Stones in Jeseníky. I'm alone here now and I try to imagine how wonderful it would have been if we had walked together in the mountains. So much has changed, the whole world. But our old mountains are still the same.
I'm going home. I'm saying goodbye again.