The place where the holy books are written. Stone wall at Hřibová.

I climbed higher and higher up the slope. A hot July day was ending. The sun was only a little above the horizon, but the landscape was still glowing. The meadows smelled of burnt thyme. I stopped, turned around. The sight was astonishing. I did not expect that the lowland around Javorník and Žulová would be so far below me. I'm at the end of the world, no doubt about it.
The hill, or perhaps just a ridge, is called Hřibová. It had the same name...