Trafika Europe 3 - Latvian Sojourn

And the colorful group sits down in the guest room. One honor student, a boy with dirty ears, who got a two in math, and two others, who would barter death for sweets even their hamsters and canaries. “First, russell and meat patties, then beet salad, boiled potatoes, gravy and fish. Aigar, don’t look at the torte, that’s for later,” mama nags. To Jacob a personage’s heroic deed are nevertheless very important. The battle is eternal, and intermissions short, even very short, when the magic of a second’s victory can be so nicely celebrated. Jacob has decided, still, in order for something to be done, it’s definitely necessary to raise a hand. Jacob raises his hand, and mama’s glance stops there. Jacob, head down, leaves the guests. Turns on the faucet in the bathroom, soaps his hands and rinses. Suddenly he looks in the mirror above the sink and almost cries out with joy – he hasn’t lost the thread, look – the personages are there, even larger. Sun eats tar, the meat grinder grinds tar, Mephistopheles drinks tar, Sunset chews tar, the prince sucks tar, the desert smokes tar. “Jakey, where did you get your hands so grubby, like a little pig! March, wash them!”

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