Trafika Europe 5 - Slovenian Interlude

To take a Russian leave

To travel backwards, leaving out no station. To gather all the details and wipe them one by one off the train’s window like misted-over, empty images. To erase the envelopes’ addressees, empty the mailbox, delete the computer’s memory,

crush the phone. To burn every note taken, all sketches, scribblings, manuscripts. When ready, to sit down a bit the Russian way before the road. The basket is fastened, the droshky with the blanket waiting, the jade harnessed. Humble yourself, proud man! Then look out once more on the rooftops across the street. Tranquility used to dwell in this view. To say good-bye to them. To stand up, rinse the table and shelves thoroughly. To go away without leaving readable traces: this way the true story of the road you covered is preserved perhaps. Because death takes back nothing, only changes things: this sentence I once


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