Trafika Europe 3 - Latvian Sojourn

My eyes swim from so much blonde hair, girls in blue blouses. My head starts to spin. A strange taste invades my lungs, the scent of ozone – what does ozone smell like anyway? – at least that's what I tell myself now as I try to grasp something more, a greater meaning and importance held in those last few moments. And the question I add to all this today: why didn't anybody call out to us, tell us to come back? So many secrets in such a short time, in the seconds before I fainted for no good reason. “From exhaustion and too much running,” as the Pioneer camp doctor dryly declared afterwards. Okay – before I dropped from exhaustion into the soft blades of the tall grass. Before the kaleidoscopic reflections of the girls' ghostly silhouettes accumulated into a single body. The sky above my head widened, filled my eyes and I fell into it, I fell into the rain, into something huge and blue, not black like they usually say the color of collapse is.

“From exhaustion and too much running,” repeats the doctor and gives me an injection in the arm.

“No” – I feel like shouting – but my voice slips into weightlessness at the edge of my throat.

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