Just, look! We were running this trail along the fields - the way so long and the day so warm, the mud on our trousers already dry when we finally reached home. Once, aunt Helen with her hair parted always so tight to the skull, almost scared the hell out of us: she was standing in the middle of the yard, frozen, like a statue, thread in her mouth. One of those hundreds of millions threads and fibers and strands all of us were collecting and tying in all summers, restlessly. She was dreaming, we guessed immediately, but what was holding her so tightly, we never found out the whole afternoon. — 27.02.2019 23:45

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