Trafika Europe 12 - French Bon-Bons

Two Stories

my blood flooded to my heart. “If you tell me, I don’t like somebody, it ’s a big lie!” she told me. Big? “What? I don’t like anybody!” Well, it wasn’t a big lie. It was small… And the day they moved… It was autumn. She brought me a rag doll, which she made with her own hands. A peasant woman whose eyes were sorrowful, tightly wrapping the swaddling two babies in her arms… Or else, was that rag doll also Aunt Şehriban? No, it wasn’t. It was only a big baby. With the broken furnishings which hadn’t stuffed the van, she was leaving her house to be a holder of a house which would make her a neighbour to others, I… I didn’t cry at all. I thought elders also play at families. At the moment when the wheels began to turn, my mother said that “when the scar is recent, it won’t hurt so much.” What I began to understand was that my scar is becoming old with the season and beginning to hurt and with her not coming back. It was my last autumn. It was the years when mobile phones began to appear but even home phones weren’t so common in the province. That ’s why I learned how she is with the compliments she sent, we were sending our compliments with the people settled… But the blue darkness was coming earlier and earlier to the windows. She wasn’t here! Fairy tale daylight of my

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