I walked, walked, walked, walked. A beautiful fortress with fine, ivy-veiled walls stood in the distance. Even the cows were wondering about the fortress, not about me. Broad trees offered shade from the heat, and the water that trickled down everywhere was good against the sun. At the seashore below there were massive, dead ships sitting motionless. At the fortress there were only white creatures: white hares, white doves, and even the goldfish in the crystal ponds are white. And then the Incredible: the peacocks are white, they're albinos, like snow, their eyes light red. A peacock spreads its white wheel, and other peacocks sit screeching in the trees, but only now and then do they mingle their shrieking voices with the shrieking rain.


Werner Herzog Of Walking In Ice