TE15 Lithuanian Honey Cake
father’s violin on the cupboard in the hall, all covered with dust).
6 There was no question of doing any painting. In order to take the easel out of the wardrobe, first I would have to pull out the turning bench. Then I would have to find the paint, which was in the corner behind the hats. The only chair in the room would have to be put onto the bed, otherwise there would be no space for the easel. The worst thing was that I couldn’t step back to see the canvas from a distance. There was no stepping back at all. Right behind me stood the bunkbed. Lora was nearly an adult – a woman – and she slept in a child’s bed above her younger brother. Was that normal? And was it normal that children should sleep in the same bedroom as us? And was it possible? Once, trying to reach my paintbrush, I knocked over the night pot under the bed. Was it normal that my wife and daughter had turned our bedroom into a toilet? ‘But, Jura,’ my wife said, surprised, ‘do you really want Lora to run to the closet outside when it’s so cold? You know how that all ends.’ There was one thing I couldn’t understand, how could they all bear it? Where did they get such patience from? ‘What happened to our toilet?’ I asked, not able to hold
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