Trafika Europe 7 - Ukrainian Prayer

Joy

and the sidewalk gets a taste of blood. I cry and that does a world of good.

quiet, ok? Because of us, when you pass the périph, you know what to do: you read the meters, you settle accounts, you know what you have to do.” Rédoine bends toward me and takes my hand but I see nothing, I have blood in my eye and I can’t breathe. “You want to make a phone call. You want to make a complaint?” When I understand that he is referring to a phone, I see his arm which is raising up, they are all on me, they immobilize me, and he smashes my knee, his arm goes up and slams down like a machine that gets jammed, he bangs the edge of the phone repeatedly into the same spot and I howl like an animal, and then I hear the sound of a motor, an acceleration and the screeching of tires, they are no longer there. It doesn’t come right away but it did finally come. I cry

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In front of the cemetery there’s a line of cars. The doors open and people get out, some of them are even smiling. Most of them wear sunglasses. Some haven’t seen each other in a long time and are happy to see each other again, even for a funeral. There are people, a lot of people: all of mom’s brothers and sisters, all of her friends, colleagues, and former students. It’s very sunny; flowers are blooming everywhere in the cemetery. There are even some in the space between the tombs, small spots filled with lively colored flowers that the

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