Trafika Europe 8 - Romanian Holiday

Ioana Pârvulescu

braided uniforms saluted somebody in a carriage. A hubbub, a merry buzz, with clattering hooves muffled by the snow, coachmen’s cries, and jingling harness bells. The snow on the road was sullied as if with ashes and churned by the horses’ hooves, but the pavements were white. I felt rested and joyful. It was as if I found myself in the world of a young and active God, having lived in an increasingly ruinous world that had lost its God or which had been lost by God. It was as if I were seeing, after many long years, a sky I no longer knew existed. It was as if I had been resurrected, after a living death. It was as if I were under a protective wing. A good feeling, one of love for all that I saw, tightened

my throat. My heart was beating wildly and I felt the pain that had longago inured me to the thought of death. Something had happened without my knowledge. I did not understand why, but my eyes filled with tears. Might I be dreaming? When you dream, however, you do not necessarily realize it is a dream, but when you are awake you know for sure. I did not need to pinch myself tobesurethat all Iwas seeing was real. Reality has an unmistakable consistency. When you go to work in the morning, nobody has to tell you that you are not asleep or that you are alive. I was in a world that was alive and awake. It looked familiar to me. I knew that I knew it, but I did not know how I knew it. I knew it and yet I did not really know it. I asked myself where I had ended

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