[…] I take another photo of the wooden sign and the landscape round about and, thanks to the strong wind that´s blowing now, see the Austrian flag on the other shore. That must be just about where his cabin was. The Skjoldeners called the place, the spit of land over there, „Austria“. […] I walk faster and arrive out of breath at the rough stone foundations of his cabin. I pace out the seven-by-eight-metre platform, get my camera out and take photos. The flag is a little higher up. I look across the lake. Wittgenstein had firewood and groceries delivered by boat. The lake freezes over in winter. The cabin had a veranda on this side and people used to see Wittgenstein pacing up and down when he was assailed by doubts – to get them under control he had to busy himself with logic.