Trafika Europe 7 - Ukrainian Prayer

Serhiy Zhadan

teachers and enemies. My old acquaintances were genuinely happy I had come back, but it didn’t go any further than that. My old loves introduced me to their kids, reminding me of the diffuse passage of time, which makes us wiser, though this newfound wisdom is inevitably accompanied by cellulite. My teachers looked to me for guidance, while my enemies asked me to lend them a little cash so they could continue leading their worthless lives. Life is a cruel, but fair. Well, sometimes it’s just cruel. On the weekends, Injured and I would play some soccer. A bunch of community college guys would stop by the station—guyswhoconsidered playing on the same team as our chubby living legend a great honor. We had a lot of work, but I’d gotten used to it. Olga and I still weren’t on

probably serve a person well to change their social circle, daily routine, name, and hair color every once in a while, and now I’d had the chance to test that theory. My hair had gotten lighter and grown out—in July I started combing it back, and then in August Kocha cut it with his prized German scissors. My old clothes had gotten all greasy and stunk of wine and gasoline now, so I bought myself some black army T-shirts and a few pairs of pants with countless pockets to store all the bolts, keys, and lightbulbs I came across at work. I had become more sensible and self-assured— maybe changing my daily routine did the trick, ormaybe it was the fact that I was working with some serious people. Fresh air really can cool your head and light a fire inside you. I reconnectedwith all of my old acquaintances, all my old loves, all my

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