Trafika Europe 11 - Swiss Delights

Leta SemaDeni

Sometimes, when an avalanche thunders down the mountainside, when the wind blows in a storm, or lightning strikes the larches on the other side of the river, it is Grandfather who has had enough of only being able to look down at Grandmother and of having to run back and forth on his silken feet over the same cloud. He must be bored to death. There aren’t any chamois up there frolicking like children and sliding down the snow-covered slopes on their behinds in the spring to get to the tender young grass. There aren’t any jackdaws in Tamangur, no Sundays, no Christmas, no roasts, no Easter bunny, no vacations. It’s all ‘as if ’, Grandmother says. Grandmother does not know if he always has to run back and forth over the same cloud or can hop from one cloud to another, or where the cloud carrying him goes when there are no clouds in the sky. Tamangur is the hunter’s paradise and Grandfather, himself a hunter, has truly earned his place in that paradise. Some men have stolen my time, Grandmother says, but Grandfather gave it back to me two and threefold. 10 Before Grandfather went to Tamangur, he was always the first at table in the morning and he stirred his coffee


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