Introduction to a Journey
The owner of the red poetry spoke to the young priest, who looked at the book of the requests for seconds, spoke in the cabin, murmured something, then looked again, murmured again, closed the book and completely devoted himself to the conversation. "San Francisco?" He asked the priest. "Yes," replied the red hair: "We sent my husband there once, and I’m going to see my actions now, I will see them for the first time.
A Conversation Unfolds
The young woman, who was very long, obese, pale, and sat there with her child’s face like a doll, while her three-year-old daughter took up the priest’s statement and became a silent tradition. The woman raised her hand to punish the child, but the priest was like her hand. "Please leave it," he said. The rain flows down and water flows on the windows of the windows and the farmers go outside on their excessive meadows to collect their straw.
The Train Ride
The train stopped and put a chopped water brush with a basket full of mushrooms in the pockets with bags, transported cigarette dinos and evening newspapers and helped open her umbrella to an emotional woman. The headmaster of the train station is slowly over the deceased train: sometimes he sometimes wonders when it is not actually a cemetery guard, four trains a day, two trains, two train leaves and possibly an additional load training that is sad of sadness, as if he is going to burial another pregnancy.
Ireland’s Landscape
In Ireland, the railway barriers do not protect cars from the trains, but rather from cars: they do not open and near the street, but on railways; The stations painted in beautiful colors appear such as a mini convoy or clinics, and this shows the headquarters of the station with the appearance of the nurse compared to its counterpart in other countries that occur in a military appearance that stands between the smoke of the machines and the defeat of the trains and revives in its hand transport trains. Flowers grow around the small Irish features, a cheeky, carefully holy trees, and the viewer smiles for the travel train as if he wants to say: "No, you don’t dream, that really happens and the hour is 4:49 p.m. because my hanging-up hours there says the hanging.
A Woman’s Story
The young woman spoke about her life in California, "The weather is hot and there is a lot of sun. Ireland looks strange in my eyes. Fifteen years have passed since my departure. I still count in dollars, I have not yet used the arithmetics in the pound, the two and the penny, and the father, Ireland is sad." The priest replied, "This is the effect of the rain." The woman shared her fears and concerns about her journey and her past experiences.
The Journey Continues
The train reached Sligo; The kisses were exchanged under umbrellas and tears were shed under umbrellas; A taxi driver slept on his crossed hands on the steering wheel, woke up and he was a gentle guy who woke up with a name. "Where?" He asked. "To the Dromclif Cherchard." "But nobody lives there." "Maybe," I said, "but I want to go there." The driver took the woman to her destination, and they walked between the pools and in empty streets.
A Grave and a Story
The woman visited a grave, and the driver told her a story about a battle that took place in 561. "The followers of St. Columba were copied the hymns of a book by Saint Fenian, and this led to a fight between the supporters of St. Columba and the supporters of the Holy Fenianer. Three thousand dead, but the king solved the battle." The woman was looking for a grave, and the driver took her to the church tower, where she found the grave she was looking for.
Heinrich Paul
Heinrich Paul was born on December 21, 1917, and died on July 16, 1985. His father, Victor Paul, worked as a carpenter, and his mother Maria was his father’s second wife. He is his father’s sixth son. He grew up in a Catholic bourgeois family. In 1970 the German Pen Club Literary Pen Club was headed until 1972, and he led the International Pen Club in the same period between 1971 and 1974. In 1972 Heinrich Paul won the Nobell literature award. The novel The Lost Honor by Katrina Bloom is one of his most famous novels of all time and was translated into more than 30 languages, was sold to a film and was sold in Germany about 6 million copies alone.
