Bernard Mac Laverty

OneHe stood at the back gateway of the abattoir, his hands thrust into his pockets, his stomach rigid with the ache of want. Men in white coats and baseball caps whisded and shouted as they moved between the hanging carcases. He couldn't see his father, yet he did not want to venture in. He knew...

Er stand an der hinteren Einfahrt des Schlachthofes, die Hände in die Taschen geschoben, den Magen vor Verlangen schmerzhaft zusammengekrampft. Männer in weißen Kitteln und Basebailmützen pfiffen und riefen, während sie zwischen den hängenden, ausgeweideten Rümpfen hin- und hergingen. Er...