Trafika Europe 1 - Northern Idyll

at them. I want to be in the kitchen, in the corner, on my tiptoes, looking at the yard through the window. I want to sing. Karlo grabs my hand. Slowly, slowly, Ballerina, he says. Mama is here, too. You’ll catch a cold, she says and buttons up my coat and the butterflies on my dress are covered again. Again, houses are running past and people. Mama says I mustn’t catch a cold because when I have a cold I don’t sleep at night and I can’t dream. That I break things then, if I don’t sleep, that I pull everything out of the closet and throw it out into the yard and they have to shut me in the pantry then, even at night, like they did with grandad Nono, who is now in heaven. They shut him in the pantry, too, says Mama. I mustn’t catch a cold. And if you don’t calm down in the pantry, you have to go to Elizabeta’s because I get so tired, Mama says. And if I can’t stay at Elizabeta’s those gentlemen in the car come and take me to hospital, Mama says. I know that. I see them. They stop in the door and smile. Then I go with them. And then, when they bring me back, Mama sings, I know she sings, because I can hear her, even there, where they take me. I hear her voice and I think she’s there somewhere in the hall or the pantry, singing. Mama shuts herself in the pantry when they take me away, I know. I can see her shutting herself in there. I look into the kitchen from the yard and I see her. First she cries. When I’m shut away, I hear her sing, too.

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