Trafika Europe 3 - Latvian Sojourn

“Nothing,” murmurs Jacob, and grimacing chews the carrot, cream, potato and pickle mixture that he hates the taste of. “If there were a chance, I’d throw it all out the window.’ But Jacob wins over time, and soon the celebrant takes care of the rich morsels of cake and clinks his lemonade glass as he empties it.

“Now, children. Let’s have games.”

“Thank you auntie for the cake!” the achiever of a two in math throws in.

Jacob gets some gravy on his hands and calls: “Mama, my hands are dirty. I’ll go wash them!” Mama become suspicious and says with irritation: “All right, but quickly! Because you’re the birthday boy!” Jacob rushes out in a run, and he is so awaited. The tarry Sun calls: “Master, master help!” Jacob looks in the mirror. A merciless slaughter is taking place there. The personages have come to a place by the sea. Desert fights, brandishing fists against a sandy plain that has sucked up the sea. Of course, the desert drives sand, but the plain puts forth dunes, that catch, but don’t reach the weaker places. Suddenly desert mixes up dunes with camel silhouettes and fashions a false hook, which reaches the snout of the plain. “Hurrah, hurrah! Got you!” Plain shakes, because it was a forceful blow, snout starts bleeding, dunes trickle, thick with seaweed. Desert has success with a few

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