Trafika Europe 3 - Latvian Sojourn

Jacob hid the mirror, because he didn’t want to share the things of his heart. And the cadre went idle.

Father was reading a newspaper in his office, and, if necessary, in the search for the sea, would bring in personages from the newspaper too, but nothing would be said to Jacob’s dad. Because secrecy flees from curiosity in seven-league boots, long noses can’t catch a galloping horse. Jacob looks around in confusion, with the perceptible shyness of the center of attraction, and he opens gifts. Eh, machines, construction kits and various games. Jacob smiles, because that’s nothing significant and profound. Reality is in his heart, and only it is greater than these snotty children, meaningless school and even the television, except if it’s showing battle.

“Children, children, wash your hands!” Mama shows the loud visitors to the bathroom.

Jacob eats a marinated pickle, to keep the digestion working, because, if war is necessary, then much, much strength will be needed.

“Children, children, to the table! Eat, and play afterward!”

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