advocated by Heidegger, and also for its
contemporary absence. Semi-derelict, the
house is a conspicuous fragment of the past.
We retrace our steps with the thought of taking
another path back: one which branches off to
the opposite side of the valley. The grass is long
here and it's rocky underfoot, demanding
constant attention, so we find it difficult to
watch for this new path. Sheep have also made
a number of trails, and we have to keep
stopping to see whether these are what we're
looking for. We must have taken one of these
sheep trails accidentally, because it peters out,
and we have to return to the track where we
began. Only when the second track reaches a
plank deliberately placed over a stream do we
know we're on the right path.
Around the time that Heidegger wrote the three
essays concerning architecture outlined in this
book, he suggested that thinking was rather like
following a Holzweg, a woodman's path in the
Black Forest. He made much of this analogy.
Woodman's paths were disorienting, surrounded
by a dense matrix of tree trunks, and few distant
views were possible. To the philosopher, a
walker follows a path in faith that it must lead
somewhere. But when walking, or thinking, it
often remains difficult to be sure one is on the
right track. And the path might lead to a dead
end, or lead round in a circle. Only occasional
arrival at a clearing, which may be familiar or
allow a view out over the wider landscape, has
potential to prove orientation for sure.
Thinking, to Heidegger, involved following a
path that has been more or less inscribed in the
INTRODUCTION