Trafika Europe 3 - Latvian Sojourn

“It is possible only when one understands the lowest, the least in oneself.”

“Can we be like that?” asked Francis.

“That depends on you. You only need strength, and need not analyze uneasiness.”

On Sunday, pan Janovski and his sons strolled about Vērman Garden. Played lotto in the pavilion. Lifted broad- brimmed hats, upon meeting acquaintances. And those numbered more than a few. “Look, there go the unpretentious cupboard and table friends! Look, how handsome they are, branchy, they’re more alive than furniture. Good day, well-rooted stumps!” Having said that, pan Janovski lifted his panama hat. Trees, branches spread, strolled and smiled. Few knew about their life, they were overly quiet. Though they did a titan’s work, they themselves looked like titans, they were embraced by titan flesh, and many hopes were dragged out with the played-out blossoms. When pan Janovski drank, he thinned his cabinet friends with tears, and only bitter little rivulets slipped along the branched bark, creating in passersby a feeling of contempt.

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