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We were tired and breathless. Then we sat down on the
grass and smiled at each other. We didn’t speak but we
were very happy. Bibi jumped up and ruffled my hair with
her small hands, as if looking for something. And the
tender movements of her hands filled my heart with so
much delight that I held my daughter again and we rolled
on the grass and the dry leaves around us stuck on our
clothes.
“Hey, Beetle, will you stop cheating me? Eh, little liar, stop
ruffling my hair!”
And Bibi laughed . . . And it seemed it would never end . . .
Like the stream which had flowed down the valley for
thousands of years. I got up, shook the leaves off my clothes
then filled the jug with cold spring water, took my
backpack and hurried to catch up with my daughter who
had already reached the path.
The path stretched along the river almost all the way down
to the village; it only twisted twice, around a huge rock and
a thick blackberry bush. I knew why Bibi was hurrying. She
was impatient to see the blackberry bush. We had come
across the bush on our way to the valley. It was the first
time in her life that she had seen a real bush with so many
blackberries. She was stunned to see such big and juicy
berries and looked at me with her round eyes, like
blackberries. I picked some berries and put them in her
hand. She couldn’t believe her eyes. The blackberries she