Trafika Europe 11 - Swiss Delights

My Mother’s Tears

ten seconds—and immediately felt the urgent need to disappear with as much dignity as possible before my status as King of the Merry-go-round began to fray and earned me some sarcastic comments. All I had to orient myself was a five-centimeter wide strip of light, dazzling as lightning, thanks to which I was able to reach the changing rooms, then the toilet. As for Romaine’s kiss, so eagerly awaited and so chocolaty, I had to relieve myself of it over a toilet bowl that smelled of chlorine and pee. * I forgot a few round slices of carrots on the bottom of a pan and they’ve turned into little black stinking piles. At the bottom of this pan, which I’ve obstinately scrubbed, determined to save it whatever the cost, armed with several rags and a maniacal patience, at the bottom of this pan, now dull, scratched, and scored, completely lusterless, I can finally bear to look at myself, I can bear the uncertain specter of my face that appears and trembles.

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