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Solenoid
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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