Trafika Europe 11 - Swiss Delights

An Instinctive Feeling of Innocence

times as a child, and she always left me waiting— sometimes as long as it took her to finish mending an entire stocking—before glancing down from her high pedestal, eyeing me from above the rim of her lowered glasses, and saying “You’ve come for nothing, there’s no room, I’m booked full.” After a long plea, she’d take my newspaper bundle, peek in, and with a tsk-tsk reply, “Hmm, look at that . . . well, come back in a week, then we’ll see.” Gulls fly overhead in neat rows, as if pulled by invisible strings. They plummet from the gable atop the municipal hospital, swoop just a few meters above the Dambovita, cavort through the air over Hero Park, and fly on toward St Elefterie church, where they perch on one of its three crosses. The shade of the trees opens up at the other end of Heroes’ Square, giving an unobstructed view of the glass-enclosed kiosks selling coffee, newspapers, and flowers. There’s quite a crowd, as it doesn’t look like it will rain, and the streets are filled with slow-moving vehicles. All in all, it seems like a peaceful morning, if one ignores the increasing noise. Any attentive observer would especially notice the florists, whose movements seem particularly sluggish in these surroundings—they look like they’re in slow motion as they arrange their bouquets. On closer inspection, there’s something sinister about their gestures.

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