The count

Notes of the aviator

I read the notes of the famous aviator Almasy, twisting and turning the thumbed book, deciphered his intricate writing style with an even older Hungarian dictionary I had bought in an antiquarian bookshop. He had flown across the Sahara Desert,   →  

The bicycle thief

It was the third time my bike was stolen, and a few days later it appeared online, for sale. Maybe it was even the same thief as last time? I was so tired of society developing in this direction, not   →  

The journey goes to Krakow

Before I had time to really reflect, I had impulsively bought a plane ticket to Krakow. It didn’t cost very much, thanks to the new low-cost airlines that have taken over the market, and it was a direct flight, with   →  

The count on the other side of the world

I had just come home from work. My new job, which I liked more and more, especially for the regular hours and the secure monthly salary. The work itself was not dissimilar to that of the average inner-city bureaucrat –   →  

The count disappeared

I walked briskly along Jungfrugatan with the manuscripts in a light leather bag, which I found to be very elegant and with just the right patina. The gate revealed itself to me, sometimes it was difficult to find the strange   →  

The West already died in the trenches of the First World War

Can be read as a stand-alone, or as a continuation of the previous article.   I swept the glass, took out the pad again, and Archibald Iratus began to dictate: Older historians and archaeologists had a penchant for dividing epochs   →  

The Count and the Lost Battle

This time I was about to give up, after an endless wandering through the gates of Jungfrugatan; how could it be so difficult to find an address that I had visited so many times before? Finally, with a trembling hand,   →  

The Count gives ice-cold advice

I rang the bell several times, but no one answered. Sometimes he would listen to his old 78s and it would take him a while to get to the door. Just as I was beginning to despair and thinking of   →  

Countless times

Archibald Iratus lived in an austere turn-of-the-century building along Jungfrugatan in Östermalm, Stockholm. A curious peculiarity of the address was its diffuse location. I could wander around for a long time before I found the unnumbered gate, and once last   →