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Solenoid
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this why you got so much
school? To live with the
gypsies? Maybe tomorrow
you’ll bring me a daughter
in law in a long flowery
skirt! They’ll steal the pants
off your ass, they will!” “You
don’t know them, listen to
me” my father poured some
more gas on the fire. “Will
you ever again be able to
sleep from now on? Every
night you’ll have a scandal,
fiddlers,
accordions,
swearing – you know, like
the gypsies… Hang a shirt
outside? You’ll be looking
for it for a looong time
tomorrow!” They kept this
on until I lost my patience
and I went downstairs to the
phone booth to call Mikola.
The man’s voice made me
think he was very old. The
house, he said, had been
built by him in the previous
regime. It was, therefore,
about a half of a century old.
As he was away from home
a lot (he had been in jail for
sure), the house remained
uncared for after the war
and it slowly deteriorated. It
neededabit of consolidation
and thewater and electricity
installations needed to be
changed. Other than that
it was a good house, as he
had designed it himself and
built it there in that city area
which seemed to have good
future. It had been empty for
six years, the last inhabitant
had gone to Israel and the
gypsies couldn’t go in or
didn’t want to. So the inside
was relatively functional.
Maybe I could also buy the
furniture. After having said
this in a heartbeat, in a
panting voice, I asked him
about the price and then