Třeboň. I wonder if I would sell my soul to the devil just like Krčín did to be able to create such beauty. Ancestry, Hope, Love, Faith, Deed, Goodwill, Blaník*. I am walking on the small dams of the Naděje fishpond system near Frahelž. It is late autumn, and it is freezing. On both sides, the bodies of water are half locked into an icy crust. It is getting late. Ice crystals and the small eye-like surfaces of the ponds reflect the setting sun and the dark blue sky. Further away, a drained pond can be seen with a streamlet of water winding along the bottom resembling a bloodstream.
There was a flash of light and from the black nonbeing a monstrous plough appeared in the ghostly moonlight. A dark bearded man was driving his ruddy bat phantoms into a wild gallop, stretches of countryside flying off the ploughshare and settling again on the edges of the future Golden Canal as a flock of crying rooks. Horror, fairy tale, reflection of a beautiful story about human will and technical skill. The region of Třeboň and a bridge to the history of 450 years of human civilization.
But it is not possible, devils pulling a plough and bottomless lakes that flooded ancient, paved town squares and silver mines… or is it?
* t/n: names of fishponds: Rod, Naděje, Láska, Víra, Skutek, Dobrá vůle, Blaník