Trafika Europe 13 - Russian Ballet

Val Votrin

thoughts and images swirl in her head anyway, unbidden. That is how she learns much of what she knows – about the Tengers, about the world of the Magog. But he tells her nothing, that is the truth. He just sits there and barely even half-listens to her, completely immersed in his own very sad thoughts. He never says anything, only occasionally asks her if she is alright. When she answers him, that everything is well, he nods his head and again submerges himself in thought. “What a strange one,” I remarked, greedily listening to her tale. She shrugged her shoulders. “They’re all like that. They have little care for us, they are sent here. And so they must fulfill their obligations. But they are not here in spirit.” “So where are they then?” “I don’t know. In the heavens, I guess. They are pining for the heavens.”

“Is this what he told you?” “Not at all. I just know it.”

And that is how all of our conversations ended — she simply knew it. I still vaguely recall that I learned from her the most amazing things, only their true meaning escaped me. And now, I have forgotten even that which she did tell me. I was, I remember, strongly taken with the notion of what it was like to communicate with a

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