Trafika Europe 11 - Swiss Delights

Leta SemaDeni

place on some far away island. While her friends were swimming in the sea, Elsa, who at the time didn’t yet live in the yellow house and was afraid of water, stayed behind in the deserted bay. She lay topless on her back, staring at the sky. Lost in thought, she didn’t notice the man until the very last minute. He saw his chance and spoke in a language Elsa didn’t understand except for snatches of French. He kept coming closer and when Elsa jumped and said, my friends will be back any minute, he whispered excitedly: Très vite, très vite! Mais je n’aime pas très vite, Elsa shot back, stamping her foot. He stood there with his mouth open, eyeing Elsa, who had covered her breasts with her hands, up and down, before vanishing, disconcerted, behind the scarp. That cleared things up for him, Elsa said. Like Grandmother’s stories, Elsa’s stories contain several possibilities. The islands vary, the color of the sea changes, and sometimes the man is a Greek farmer, sometimes a tourist from Appenzell or an athlete from Paris. But he’s always called Trayveet and always speaks in broken French. Tell us the story with Trayveet, again, Grandmother says,

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