Brany station

part of his property was expropriated from my great-grandfather Wlodozmer Kuliba in 1930 by the Polish government for the construction of roads and a railway station

The road crossed the border of two oblasts and sections of railway tracks - Kamianka-Buzka and Kivertsivska. At first it was comfortable. Despite the gloomy weather and drizzle, spring was approaching. It was quite warm, birds sang in dozens of voices everywhere. The woodpecker knocked very well, with overflows or in different tones, I don't know, I'm not a musician. But it seemed that the echo of his knock spreads for tens of kilometers. I wanted to record this nature music on a dictaphone, but as soon as I got my smartphone, the woodpecker fell silent. Other birds sang and without the "drummer" the melody was not complete. Once again I was convinced that in order to experience the feelings that I am lucky enough to get in my travels, I need to go on a journey. After all, it is impossible to describe in words or modern technical means. Yes, some great writer will portray it better than I do, a professional cameraman will even perfectly convey the picture and sound, and yet something will be missing. The rain became heavier and although I was not afraid to get wet, because I have good equipment, I still decided to wait for it under the thick spruces. He squatted on the trunk of a wind-broken tree and had breakfast at the same time. After a rest and a snack I went on. In time, the road ended. Dry thickets of goldenrod of other herbs and blackberries began. It became difficult and inconvenient to go. He decided to cross the railway line and the forest strip that grew behind it and try to move through the field. It was not easy to do. The track was quite high, and the ascent to it was overgrown with thick blackberries, plus stones that crumble from each step. But I still overcame this obstacle. After landing, dizzying landscapes opened up. It seemed to me that I got to the Carpathians. Overgrown with forest, enough, high hills shrouded in fog, ravines, streams. The good mood became even better. Then I did not go, but flew, breathing the air of early spring, I was happy, because I lived, I traveled. After the bridge, through an unknown stream, the building of the former station of Brany became visible in the distance. In a few minutes I was already photographing him from different angles. My actions aroused the suspicion of a railway employee who was talking on the phone nearby. He thought I was a coronavirus terrorist, and after a short conversation we got along and he even told me a little about the station. Although the railroader did not know much. He only said that the building had been built a long time ago and that chicken eggs had been added to the mortar for strength, and that he had mentioned his former foreman, who had many photographs and knew the history of this section of the railway well. But, unfortunately, he left for Poland. I also failed to find relevant information. I only know that it was closed, allegedly, in 1981. Since then it has been used as an ordinary dwelling house for railway workers and the foreman mentioned by my new acquaintance was the last to live there. It is a pity that such a beautiful and solid house stands empty and in time will begin to fall apart, no matter what eggs are used for its construction. I have seen many such closed stations and abandoned houses along the railway tracks. They are very interesting and I have never met two of the same. And they are built in the style typical of railway architecture of the country that built the railway. In Volhynia they were built by Poles, in the Carpathians by Austrians and Czechs, beginning with the Rivne region by the Russian Empire.