Trafika Europe 8 - Romanian Holiday

Carl Boon

STRANGERS AMONG THESE HILLS

How joyful the hills without me—gunblasts, laughter, and brides lifting their skirts above the dirt. In the morning noisy aunts pluck flowers  from the roadside, gossiping. Even on the highest hill the buildings murmur, and citizens track to and fro with the promises of lovers. Is it only me  who notices that the trees  on the east horizon  rise in shapes of lions? 8:58: in the distance citizens— some in brown scarves— approach the Buca Mosque for the night’s last call to prayer. Elsewhere, kids slide down

hills, startling the cats and chair-bound uncles watching the news.

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