It was a tree that didn’t discriminate between race, religion, language or age.
That magical experience of nature happened momentarily but its significance etched itself in their hearts forever.
I know that when the time comes you’ll seek me out. Like the great explorers, you’ll trace my every step.
So often it was the fridge that held the very heart of the mystery, the key to explaining houses and their owners.
‘The worst days of my life, Miguel. The worst I’ve ever been through.’
Questions and translation from the Japanese by Hart Larrabee, participant in the Japanese-English workshop at the BCLT Summer School
Jean Boase-Beier writes on translating the poetry of the Holocaust with reference to Paul Celan's Totenhemd.
'Translations aren’t mirrors of an original text; they are windows into other worlds.' An author's view of the BCLT Summer School.
“There were two suicide notes,” Edward explained. “One for you, and one for you.”
Whenever the men discussed what they liked in a girl, “she” knew she didn’t want to become that sort of girl. She would rather die.