Trafika Europe 11 - Swiss Delights

An Instinctive Feeling of Innocence

Drivers start aggressively hitting their horn, jolting him from his contemplative reverie. He quickly darts left, then right—where even more, even louder horns chase him. Tires squeal, and from far away I try not to lose the little wet furball from sight, perhaps compelled by some unconscious conviction that his life depends on my attention. “He’ll make it,” Sweetie reassures me. “This is his home turf.” I have a tendency to want to control everything. Dinu once accused me of that, saying that instead of learning to adapt thanks to proper professional training, I’d twisted everything I learned into the aforementioned unprofessional detraining that makes me rather ill- suited for daily life here. Sweetie takes my hands into hers, for the first time since we’ve known each other, and I suddenly realize that the familiarity one tries to create with members of this city’s previous generations is merely a self-defensive deception lonely people indulge in. At the same time, I dare not let this conclusion contaminate my other dealings with Sweetie, as there’s still a possibility that I’ve won a smidgeon of her respect, which I had to chase after as a child. “Let’s chat a bit longer, but then I’ll have to go.” The way I spread my attention around to take everything

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