What would you do if your mother became seriously ill and her only hope was the memory of a dream that someone else had dreamed many years ago? Would you resign yourself to the inevitable, or would you try to bring the dream to life?
A journey to Vienna, in search of something that cannot exist.

„Dazed, I rose, felt my way to the source, wet my eyes with the water and stared down at the night-black puddle. Only when the moon broke through the clouds did the surface of the water become brighter. Suddenly it was almost transparent and I could effortlessly see through it to the bottom of the spring.“

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