Escape

He sat on the stool by the front yard; his hands, so clumsy, had already overtaken us “someday they will demolish the house” he says to me “and they’ll discover it.”
And every so often, at the far end of the room, someone wrapped a bed-sheet around himself; it was the time he escaped until
the bed-sheet fell empty on the floor and we had a friend forever.
In the stations the immigrants were lined and, hiding inside their
their overcoats, they waited for the voyage like a dog on its death bed.
And uncle Elias, our rich relative, years after his death, still stood on the sidewalk; however he didn’t turn to look at us, “uncle” I said “since you knew, why you came back?”, “I can’t fall asleep” he says to me “I still have to lose some more.”
I tried to leave but I met the deaf boy on the side street; he was leaning on the wall and he was crying and now there was a small lit chapel on the wall while snow fell outside and passersby drowned in their words.

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