Trafika Europe 11 - Swiss Delights


1 It is noon, the bells are ringing, the streets have already emptied. Tar oozes from the cracks underfoot. The child bends down, scrapes up a bit of the black substance with her index finger, waves her finger briskly back and forth in the air to cool the tar. She sticks it in her mouth and starts to chew as she runs quickly up the steep, narrow street, her head bowed, still captivated by the end of a story the teacher had read to the class: a boy and a girl hold each other close as they drift along a river on a boat laden with hay under a red-gold moon that has painted a lustrous stripe on the water. The tar in her mouth has a dangerous taste. With one ear still attuned to outside noises, she picks up the sound of small, rapid steps approaching, and as the feet draw level, her mouth automatically says hello. Only when the greeting is not returned does the child tear her attention away, quick as lightning, from the story of the red moon, straighten her glasses, and peer after the receding steps. Below her, a rust-red goat with a black stripe on its back runs down the steep street. It turns its head and looks


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