Trafika Europe 1 - Northern Idyll

ever start breathing again after he has had a drink. Then he breathes. Always. He breathes, smiles and leaves.

Tata sits down. He looks at the gondola, sitting with the telegram in his hand. I’m still in the corner, looking at him.

I’m sitting at the table, eating pasta.

It’s good, the pasta, isn’t it, Ballerina? says Tata . I look at him. I know my mouth is full and the sauce is running down my chin. I know, I don’t feel, because Mama gave me the drops earlier, to make me calm, I saw her. I know I don’t feel. Tata is looking at his plate. Then I see there are others around the table, we’re all here and I think it’s my birthday. Josipina, Karlo, Tata , Mama, everybody is here. I look at them. Then I put down my fork with pasta on it and I hold his ear, Franc’s, my father’s. He doesn’t say anything. He lets me pull his ear and he keeps looking at his plate with pasta. Then I take Karlo’s hand and pinch him. First he moves it away, then lets me pinch him. I watch Josipina. Now I’m watching her and holding a fork. No one says anything. Not even Mama, who is standing behind me and eating pasta from a small pan. I see her. Mama likes pasta. Sometimes she says: Oooh, it’s so good. And I watch Josipina. She looks like Mama. Her eyes are like Mama’s, like Elizabeta’s. Josipina, my sister.

She talks quietly. Mama says she talks like a sparrow, like the birds sleeping in the tree top when it’s night. And

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