Memoirs

 The trash bins stood by the gate, two of them, gray and green and tall . They sat high on a pedestal to the left of the gate, by the lilAc tree. To the right there was the other lilac, and my aunt's window to climb. Although the lilacs were much better smelling than the trash bin, they never offered  any real possibility to hide in their sparse foliage. there it was, bound to happen one day, while playing hide and seek. To this day i do not remember how we could cliMB up to hide inside them, maybe we just laid them flat, but i do remember they could hide a whole child. The rest of the story involves washing hands, aND elbows, and knees, and shirts, and pants. And probably scolding from the assigned parents on supervision duty. 

 It must have bene a white lie and yet it caused the teacher to turn the boy's earlobe orange towards purple. The morning had started as usual, with children walking fast towards kindegarten. The kindergarten must have been illgal, for the few kids who had grandmothers willing to brave to law, and send them to a half day place, where they would learn a foreign language. The morning started with the chidlren placing their little lunchboxes on a counter, or by the square and flat pillows where we were to eat later in the day. We must have sung, and recited a few phrases in german. I was one of the favorite pupils, maybe because i had an inclination towards languages, or an unfAIr advantage of being exposed to german in the house.  I remember that during our midd morning walk i got a fig for a treat. The figs were always hard because they did not have time to ripen before winter came in our city. It was small and green and i had a hard time biting it, but it was my prize so i fou...

 We make mobiles for babies, and use strong colors, and contrasts, including black and white. My first memories are like that, in strong contrast with the surroundings. I remember the day when my brother was brought home from the maternity hospital where he was born. I only remember him, swaddled and red in his cheeks from crying and loud, and ready to be loved and cared for. I watched him and his memory stays with me, since i was three.  I remember being raised by two sisters, called by my childhood friend the good grandmother and the bad grandmother. They were both good to me, one was open to the world, one was focussed solely on protecting the family.  I remember my father was always leaving for work before i would wake up, usually at 7. I think he was leaving at 6 and riding his bike for about 1 hour to go to work, from the center of the town to ITS edge, some 15 KM away. I could see my mother for about 30 minuted before she would have to leave, then finish breakfast ...