Trafika Europe 7 - Ukrainian Prayer

Quiet Flows the Una

planted with geometrical precision to form a socialist star in leaf. This large, foliate star was home to the nests of robin redbreasts, that working class contingent among the birds – a Red Army of uniform appearance that was far from possessing any talent in song but composed an industrious and obedient youth wing that forever wove its grey, hanging houses in those bushy trees, whose berries had a reddish juice with a bitter taste. Still, robins were sweet- feathered creatures that always chirped and worked tirelesslytofurthertheirsmall, socio-political communities, creating a secure avian commune that functioned according to the principle from each according to their abilities, to each according to their needs. That really was a

classless society because all its members had equal rights like in the hyperborean land of Sweden. ‘Just you try walking on the grass!’ Kosta the park warden would roar in his grey-green uniform and huge Russian fur hat, whose circle of shade could shelter a family with ten or more children. ‘Even the grass will be red if the Central Committee so decides,’ Kosta tried to scare us, invoking the grand masonic lodge that ran our great and powerful State – and all just because we loved to walk on the grass and pick the daisies and star-shaped dandelions. I was more afraid of his fur hat than his bony features, his face with broad cheekbones and ill-tempered, grey gimlet eyes that sent a glare instead of a greeting when he was officially cross.

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