Trafika Europe 8 - Romanian Holiday

Solenoid

trace of my passing through the world, a fact that was bringing me some kind of dark joy. On an October Sunday my unhappiness – which was then the air I breathed – took me out of the house. It had rained furiously the entire morning but in the afternoon it suddenly turned silent and the buildings across the road became clear and transparent, dressed in a light which came from nowhere. I went down, I started walking through the sparkling wind towards the Circus Alley, then I crossed the park. The lake was now muddy and brought its drowned bodies to the surface. I had never crossed neither in my childhood, nor later, beyond the remote side of the lake, beyond the

row of the four apartment buildings eternally mirrored by itswaters, the“diplomats’ buildings” where chocolate coloured little girls and obliquely eyed little boys played on the balconies with peg tops and mirrors. I knew that behind these buildings there was the Lacul Tei neighbourhood, which had a mythical topography for me, because my godmother lived there on an endless little street with ditches on the sides where people poured the slops. In those yards, as far as one could see through the fences, the beans and tomato stakes tops had coloured glass globes which reflected the clouds. Galvani high school was there too, as well as a half collapsed school and, above all, a big timber

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