Trafika Europe 8 - Romanian Holiday

Solenoid

was probably living his last years, he thought of selling it, although he didn’t think he could. “Only a man like you could see something worthy of desire about my house. I can feel you want to live there. It is clear that it was not you who chose the house, it chose you. I can only wish you have more luck with it than I had. Forget what I told you (I so seldom have the chance to talk to someone) and bring the woman you’ll choose there. It is a good house, sir, it will be good to you both.” He sold it to me for seventy- five thousand lei. Themoney came from my parents eventually, for what were they to do? They borrowed it from the mutual help house, they are still paying instalments today. I had

seen the inside of the house at the end of the week I had met the old man, however, when I first started towards Maica Domnului with the ownership deeds in my briefcase and the entrance key in my pocket it was as if I had arrived there for the first time and, in fact, it has been the same ever since. I am always surprised and charmed with the melancholic putridness around, with the silence and the outlandish remoteness of that street, different from any other. I only feel this tormenting happiness in the afternoons when I am almost asleep and, in a flash, I remember the landscapes from my essential dreams. I come into my house, always, as into a great womb. I can almost hear

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