Trafika Europe 7 - Ukrainian Prayer

Faruk Šehić

the tin woodstove, the light fixtures and the stone from Mars, or rather the moon, are now all immortal refugees. Grandma and Grandfather are at the town cemetery in Lipik, alongside each other. Their souls have entered the map of stellar pathways. On evenings when the Leonid meteor showers fall, refugees returning to their earthly houses are skilfully concealed among them. Life is repeated in all its simplicity, full of little habits and human rituals. ‘May thunder singe your socks!’ and ‘Damn and deuce you!’ can be heard between the meteors that burn up in the atmosphere. _____

intestines were full of soil. Its odour was strongly arousing. Grandma Delva’s plants were the only things stronger than the war. The suburb of Žitarnica diminished like everything else after the battle to win back the town. The way unknown plants grow at right angles out of the walls is moving. Here, where life has been scorched, there is fertile ground for new growth. Those rooms with neither floor nor ceiling can be launch pads for soaring up into the sky. Everything that was once in the house has done exactly that. Blackened and heavy from the smoke and fire, gasping for air, they found their way upwards. The rooms’ coolness and darkness, the Bosnian carpets, ottomans, porcelain, crystal glasses, vases and cutlery,

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