I felt infinity in a dimly lit traditional Austrian bistro in Bad Ischl, with the hoarse voice of Edith Piaf coming from another room, making me feel as if this moment is all there is, while nothing has existed prior and nothing will ever exist post: « Je vois la vie en rose. »
Some would say the place is an overused and exhausted time machine, transporting you to early 40s where places like this were the bittersweet escape from the unimaginable pains outside, while others would simply call it a getaway from the modern world that opens a door to one’s inner romantic utopia. As the neon lights flicker almost to emphasise the stopping of time, one feels willingly trapped in a Klimt painting- no, not the one with the Kiss- but feeling the warmth and peace the Mother feels in a pile of daisies while holding her child.
As I dread the inevitable first step back out towards rosy cheeks and the Austrian fall, the question still remains: How does one move on after having felt infinity?