Trafika Europe 2 - Polish Nocturne

to God. There’s something of him in your features, in your eyes. Of course, I mean when you were younger, as I imagine you. He was still young then too. A lot older than me, but I was no more than a kid back then. It was only my second building site, and I worked on the first one less than a year. When you lift your head a bit that way it’s like I was looking at him. Stop shelling a moment. When your hands stop moving your face is clearer. Now I’m not so sure. Maybe a little. Why Priest? He’d trained to be a priest, spent three years in seminary, but he gave it up. That he never told me. But he kept his surplice and stole, and his Bible, he had them in a separate little suitcase that he kept locked. Though on a building site like that, who wouldn’t open another person’s suitcase and take a look inside? Especially one that was locked. Before he went to sleep he’d always kneel by his bed and pray for a long time. He never missed Sunday Mass. So it was all the more of a temptation to open the suitcase. Work on the building site often continued on a Sunday, especially if it was running behind, but he always had to go to Mass. Of course he got into trouble, he was written up, they docked his bonuses. At the worksite meetings they claimed it was because of people like him that the building was behind schedule. That there were too many believers on the site, and he was an example to them. Though he was no exception. All kinds of people worked on building sites in


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