Trafika Europe 7 - Ukrainian Prayer

Charles Pépin

platters, and large salads, everyone is drinking a little too much. We discuss and talk loudly, his living room is so full it may split open. His two sons, bottle at hand, roam the room ready to serve us. The oldest son just came around for the third time and, as if he had a reputation for being lazy, each family member compliments him. “Thank you, thank you, he responds with his hair in front of his eyes, I didn’t do it on purpose!” We hear other jokes; cousins find each other again and promise to see each other again before the next funeral despite the distance between them. By the way, who is on that list? Invitations fly out, promises are tossed around, certain laughs sound a bit fake but not more than usual. My uncle tells me that it fits me well, this banged up, boxer’s head. Small kids run between our legs, they are playing tag

that all of this reflects her. I catch sight of Louise in the crowd and I tell myself that she’s beautiful. When my turn comes, I find that they are looking at me strangely but it’s probably because of my black and blue eye and the stitches on the arch of my eyebrow. I sense a murmur running through the crowd, as if I had said something bad but I don’t see what it could be, yet no one speaks, I am alone speaking to her in the burning silence and I tell her that I love her. The workers at the service announce that the ceremony is over and invite us to leave and to follow them to the tomb. Four of them pick up the coffin and suddenly I see the fear in my father’s eyes.

We all meet at Mathieu’s house, there are wines from the Loire and dishes, cheese

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