One recognizes, esteemed female reader, esteemed reader, the new sanctuaries by the fact that they do not look like church. The church used to be a space that acknowledged its purpose: vaults, pews, altar. The modern sanctuaries are spaces that hide their purpose: wood, fabric, plants, warm lighting. One is not supposed to be afraid; one is supposed to surrender.<\/p>\n
The health area of the Sonnenalp lay behind a row of round arches that were so soft and friendly that they almost had something maternal about them. Wooden columns stood there, bright and smooth, as if they had been built from a carefully filtered nature. Large planter boxes, also made of wood, were filled with ferns and lush greenery that looked so fresh that it became suspicious: as if nothing could wither here, because withering does not fit into the program. In front of them stood chairs, upholstered, clean, with a pattern that was bourgeois without being stuffy; and next to the chairs small, round side tables that looked like tree stumps, only that they of course had never been a tree. The carpet underneath was striped, as if it wanted to say to the seated person: sitting, too, has a direction.<\/p>\n
On the wall, in a bright field, there was a word:<\/p>\n
HEALTH.<\/p>\n