Trafika Europe 8 - Romanian Holiday

Solenoid

when my fingers stopped on the extraordinarily vague phantom of the ebonite switch I felt that, for a nanosecond, I filled the creator’s skin of splendour and flame. I pressed and there was light, blinding and unbearable. It took my eyes yet another eternity to get used to it. A metallic ladder was hanging from the metal grid. It went down towards the tower floor in the middle of which, however apparently floating half way up, there was a round ivory object that occupied about a quarter of the visual field. The rest was made of the rectangular sandstone tiles of the floor. The object seemed to levitate in the tower shaft but when you went down until you could

touch it, you saw that it was actually supported by an ivory metal column stuck on what appeared now clearly: an old complicated dental chair with faded leather on its head cushions, with the drill andturbine ironcovered in fine salt, with the front tray full of nickelled tools. The round piece above was full of bulging glass disks, like car headlights. In front, at the height of the patient who would have sat on the chair, there was the round window, like a porthole, the one that made my house look so much like a ship. Its glass was covered with a kind of a lid that also had a cipher with way more figures than the other one. I didn’t try to open the porthole for a long time, because my entire attention

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