“Imagine a river,” whispered the old fisherman, “winding its way through the German countryside.” He gestured towards the gentle flow of the Stepenitz. “This river, the Stepenitz, holds many secrets.” We stood on the banks, the scent of pine needles and damp earth filling the air. The old man continued, “It rises near Schwerin, imagine that, a bustling city far from here.” He chuckled. “It meanders through lakes and forests before finally reaching the Trave River.” He pointed towards the north. “And onward to the Baltic Sea.” The Stepenitz wasn’t just a river. It was a lifeline, a witness to history.
Центральный дом работников искусств
Step through the grand wooden doors of the Central House of the Workers of Art, and you’ll be transported to