Trafika Europe 3 - Latvian Sojourn

game, there’s no real danger here. Pioneer camp, a children’s war, the running continues.

We reached the river – we crossed without fording, with quick steps across the stones. Under the thin rubber soles of your tennis shoes you can feel the edge of the rock, splashes of water cool you off momentarily. And again running, quickened breath – where is the mirage, the blue spot on green infinity? The jumping braid, the white heels of the odd shoes, which still had their strange treads – look, there they are here – leaving unfamiliar tracks. We turn into a long curve, encircling the slope bristling with trees. The dank shade raises goosebumps on our bare arms. Who is waiting for us around the corner?

An April rain begins to fall.

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Raindrops glistened through the sunshine, fluff floated from the poplars, crossing into the rain's line of fire.

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