Caught Between Worlds

I grew up in a distopic society of an Eastern European country.

Snow covering the earth with thick blankets during long winters, and bathing in the Danube all summer long was something common those days. Sandwich biscuits with cocoa filling, wrapped in a sunny yellow pack, was a delight during long summer holidays spent by the pool. Those were the first years. It was just the beginning of my life. It was also the beginning of the end of an era, the end of a distopia I used to live in, without even knowing this word back then: distopia. The school started just fine, and the bus used to carry me and my colleagues from the neighborhood to school and back home. I remember those fat busses with their gas engines so loud that when they speeded up, we used to sit on the back seats, and shout to each other, and no one could hear a thing! Then the buses were replaced by newer ones. Wow! Slick, elegant, slim, shiny! And then two new versions were roaming the same old streets! Their diesel engines were so silent, so smooth! In a few years these shiny busses became crowded, and larger „harmonica” busses came along. The industrial city by the river needed a large amount of workers, so the busses carried them along with schoold boys and girls like us. In time, the busses became so crowded that one day I was whirled inside the bus by the crowd, and by the destination I did not even touched the floor! These were the last busses to be seen on the streets. Then, one day, I had to walk about 4 km. This was the distance between my home and my school, the oldest school in town: established in 1884. The busses no longer used to roam the streets, unless there was the time to carry the workers to and from work. So the kids and everybody else could walk according to their daily routine or needs… Winter. Snow. I was walking towards my school. Watching my steps I saw a little something in the snow, something green. I bent over and picked up a wrist watch with a metal wrist band. Its round dial was green; vertical waved green bands were decorating the dial. The hands were golden. Its brand was the same as mine: Luch. A Soviet brand. My golden watch had a squared shape, with a sidef dial, and the lines marking the hours, along with the hands were golden.

I was 19 when my world was turned upside down.

A Western alike world was promised instead.

[January 28th, 2017]