Trafika Europe 11 - Swiss Delights

Tamangur + 11 Poems

with a soup spoon. When the child sat down at the table, he would lift the spoon with melted cheese from his cup with a wink and the child would raise her shoulders to her ears with delight and giggle. Grandmother had forbidden cheese in his coffee. You’ll fill her with nonsense, she would scold from the corner, as she gripped a loaf of bread tightly to her chest and cut it into slices. Someone has to, Grandfather would answer calmly, you’ll teach her the rest. He would then look inquiringly at the child, who would nod. Grandfather would take his army knife from his trouser pocket, cut a few large chunks of cheese into the cup, pour the hot coffee over them, add a spoonful of sugar, and stir until the cheese formed light yellow strings. When Grandmother came to the table, the two of them would be looking innocently into their cups and Grandmother would sit down, breathing heavily. You couldn’t put anything over on her. She would fix her narrowed eyes on the strings that hung between the cups, the child’s mouth, and Grandfather’s jaws. As always, when Grandmother burned with indignation, Grandfather would give her a kiss.


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