Kezdőlap | Ajánlók | Kívánságkosár | Eladóink | Kereső | Könyvrendelés
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Budapest then and now
Imre Móra
Termék helye: Budapest XIII. kerület
Állapot: jó állapotú
Kiadó: New World
Oldalak száma: 220
ISBN: 9630491359
Nyelv: angol
Kiadás éve: 1987
Fizetés lehetséges módjai: személyes átvétel
2000 Ft
A Könyvmegálló egy olyan közösségi oldal, ahol bárki ingyen regisztrálhat és díjmentesen adhat-vásárolhat könyveket. Ha a terméklapon látott információk alapján úgy döntesz, szeretnéd megvásárolni a könyvet, töltsd ki szállítási adataidat és kattints a 'Megveszem' gombra. Ezután a rendszer automatikusan elküldi neked az eladó adatait, az eladót pedig értesíti a megrendelésről, így fel tudjátok egymással venni a kapcsolatot.
Ha vásárlás előtt kérdezni szeretnél a termékkel kapcsolatban, az 'Üzenek az eladónak' gombra kattintva ezt is megteheted. Üzeneteidet az 'Üzeneteim' menüpontban olvashatod el.
Leírás

A ​walk about Budapest with this little book in hand is like being given a privileged personal tour of this fascinating city with someone who has lived and loved each nook and cranny of old Budapest for a very long time." ~ Esther Vecsey (Budapest Sun. Feb. 1999) „Mora's insights provide a fascinating window into this lost world. This calm, balanced work… gives us a clue of the staggering social and cultural loss in much of Europe since the middle of this century. It's a must read for anyone with a desire to better understand the complicated 'what is' by improving their knowledge of 'what was'.” ~ Delusions of Grandeur Magazine. Chicago, 1998. „A personal and very informative set of vignettes of the capital, past and present.” ~ Hungary: The Rough Guide, 1999 PROLOGUE It was one of those glorious sunsets, in June 1945, when the sun was about to dip behind the Buda Hills, as if to hide from the sight of the mangled city. Against the sky, aglow with crimson clouds, the silhouette of the Castle stood out sharply. The gutted skeleton of the Royal Palace seemed to be aflame once more, just as it had been in January, and the jagged ruins of houses and palaces everywhere emerged like the rugged contours of some primeval canyon. In the foreground, the river was already submerged in shadows, and the broken pillars and collapsed structure of the Chain Bridge at the left were mercifully obscured in the twilight. I admired this panorama and was at the same time saddened by it, remembering the past beauty of this cityscape. And I was convinced, like many others, that it would take a hundred years to restore it. Presently I noticed that I wasn't alone: A British officer – apparently of the Allied Control Commission – was also leaning against the embankment railing, absorbing the picture. I looked at him stealthily, for he was the first Westerner I'd encountered for five years, while the war had been raging. I felt an urge to speak to him, to explain what those destroyed

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