Trafika Europe 3 - Latvian Sojourn

cars, nothing more – even bashful bushes, roots compressed, had grown dizzy from višņovska and said goodbye unnoticed, not to return. Some of them sat on for a time, and the boys tried to catch them unaware and whisk them onto the tram. Having eaten cookies, the boys stroked the furniture, that in the twilight took on the hardhearted expression of mountains. Empty drawers and shelves stood and were silent. Francis had a flashlight in his hands, he and John crept together into the sideboard gnawed by wood borers, shining their first step into the cave, from the opening of which splintery fragments starred out. At the end there was no going forward. There was no path farther. Evening. And the boys lay down to nap, having their fists out under their heads. First one has to have one’s sleep, and then the explorations can continue.

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