Trafika Europe 1 - Northern Idyll
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’M PEEING, NOW. I CAN feel I’m peeing. I’m cold. I

don’t want to open my eyes, I don’t want to look at the

window. I can hear some footsteps. I know, Mama

opens the door. I’m on the bed. I can hear her coming

closer. Good morning, Ballerina, she says. We must change,

it’s a new day today. I know. I know very well it’s a new day,

because I wet myself, and because it’s the morning. Mama

is drying me. With a towel. It’s rough. It hurts. Then she

puts stockings on my feet. I know it’s winter.

In the evening when Mama and I are standing by the

window, the chestnut tree doesn’t have leaves and the birds

no longer sleep there. She’s putting my stockings on,

Mama, caressing my toes. Oh, my beautiful Ballerina, she

says, we’ll put some ointment on now, every night, on your

toes, you know. Otherwise you won’t dance anymore. Look,

what they’re like, they must hurt. And she strokes my toes,

my feet.

I’m in the kitchen now. Sitting at the table. Looking at the



is in the hall, smoking and looking at the yard.

The ash falls down. He stands and looks. Mama is breaking

bread into a cup of coffee in front of me. I look at the milky

coffee, I look at the bits of bread falling into it. I grab a

spoon. I slurp. I chew, looking at the hall.


is looking at

the yard. Then he takes his hat off the hook and puts it on.

He looks in the mirror hanging on the wall. It’s quiet. No

one talks. He doesn’t look at me. He steps out into the yard,

I see him, he’s leaving. To the bar, says Mama. I know he’ll