Trafika Europe 8 - Romanian Holiday

Solenoid

this why you got so much school? To live with the gypsies? Maybe tomorrow you’ll bring me a daughter in law in a long flowery skirt! They’ll steal the pants off your ass, they will!” “You don’t know them, listen to me” my father poured some more gas on the fire. “Will you ever again be able to sleep from now on? Every night you’ll have a scandal, fiddlers, accordions, swearing – you know, like the gypsies… Hang a shirt outside? You’ll be looking for it for a looong time tomorrow!” They kept this on until I lost my patience and I went downstairs to the phone booth to call Mikola. The man’s voice made me think he was very old. The house, he said, had been built by him in the previous

regime. It was, therefore, about a half of a century old. As he was away from home a lot (he had been in jail for sure), the house remained uncared for after the war and it slowly deteriorated. It neededabit of consolidation and thewater and electricity installations needed to be changed. Other than that it was a good house, as he had designed it himself and built it there in that city area which seemed to have good future. It had been empty for six years, the last inhabitant had gone to Israel and the gypsies couldn’t go in or didn’t want to. So the inside was relatively functional. Maybe I could also buy the furniture. After having said this in a heartbeat, in a panting voice, I asked him about the price and then

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