The apple tree at the back of W’s house in Hungary, between storms – it’s a beauty. The picture was taken on Sunday. On the same day, driving the local roads in pouring rain, W saw a strange building on the horizon and went to explore. The rain stopped, sunshine broke through. At the end of a pot-holed lane he found an abandoned railway station: crumbling walls, ticket desk, cellar, a dark wild garden.
Trains, railway stations, disused tracks – these are recurring motifs in the stories of Stefan Grabinski, which W translated for CBe. Surrender to a writer, and the writer translates the world.
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