Miklós Radnóti statue
Gallivanting in my home city and further afield. Words by me, photos (mainly) by him. The good ones anyway!
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“Shot in the back of the head- “This is how
you’ll end.” “Just lie quietly,” I said to myself.
Patience flowers into death now.”
From his poem “Postcard 4” written after seeing a friend, a violinist, executed. A few days before his own death.
What a waste war is, all the way round.
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Awful! Thanks for that.
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