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IFuchs wasn't quite born by his mother… In the beginning, when he came into being, he wasn't even seen, he was only heard, for Fuchs, upon being born, chose to come out through one of his grandmother's ears, his mother having no musical ear to speak of…Fuchs

I Fuchs was not born by his real mother… At the beginning, when he came into being, he was not even seen, but only heard, because when Fuchs was born he preferred coming out through one of his grandmother's ears, as his own mother did not have an ear for music…

Cotadi is short and thickset, with bulging muscles, his legs articulated twice outwards and once inwards; he is always unshaven. His raven black hair is covered with dandruff, sparklers and precious tortoise-shell combs. Cotadi cannot stand upright because of an armor-like

Cotadi is short and big-bellied, brawny, his legs are curved twice outside and once inside, and he is eternally unshaven. His ebony dark hair is full of dandruff and studded with shiny little crystals and expensive tortoise shell combs. Hardly ever does Cotadi stand upright

(17. 03. 1883 – 23. 11. 1923)Through Urmuz, Romanian Surrealism is previous to the French one and independent. Leaving behind the trivial objective chance, Breton thought it fit to use the inner chance, i. e. that chance grouping of subconscious elements which are not

Sire,Dear Gentlemen and Ladies,The Somalis' Country, of which I have the honour of relating, stretches along the entire East Horn of Africa and is called Bar-as-Somal in the Somali language. The Somalis belong to the Mohammedan religion of the Shafi'ite sect and

excerptTo put it in a nutshell, there are three races living in Congo today:The Pygmies, scattered all over the territory and on the verge of extinction;Nuba, the invaders who live in the north – and, finallyThe Bantu, the most numerous. Several distinct and independent

excerptAbout the Earth's Crust A loud knock on the door of the cabin disturbs my sweet morning sleep. Gibrelterra!… Gibrelterra!… I rub my eyes sleepily and, without understanding anything, I ask stroppily: what is it? what's happened?Gibrelterra!…We can

We are stepping in on a realm of legend. My reader undoubtedly knows the thrill of finding himself in places bearing a special aura. Something memorable has occurred there. Not necessarily a glorious, heroic deed, a moment of history, but an act of spirit (pardon my grandiloquence!)

Relying on analogies, the memoirist sometimes builds his 'account' on an allegoric construct. The major allegoric theme of such itineraries, suffused with metaphors and symbols (ranging from the proud verticality of the mountain to the protean horizontality of

excerptsWhen you arrive in Frankfurt, coming from Eastern Europe, you find too little of what you knew about Germany from the readings of its great writers. Another world, other values, another history. A civilisation of concrete and of computers. It is only when you arrive

It's not about a simple leap, but a process. The way from the Big Wheel of Prater to the De Lorean of Back to the Future goes through numerous crucial moments. I experienced one at Universal Studios before I embarked on the vehicle that flies in time and space standing