There is a special, magical place. An oak and linden tree forest on the north side of a ridge. Autumn leaf softly swirl down to the ground from the tall trees. Dry leafs on the ground rustle around your feet as you walk. In the crown of the majestic trees, the south west wind makes a whooshing sound.
On the ground it is silent and still, so silent you can touch it. Smell it. Feel it. There under green blankets of moss the trolls sleeps until night comes. A woodpecker makes a knocking sound trying to find food in a dead oak branch. All is well and your soul is renewed.
Listen to the sound of silence, ha de Gött!