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From the bank along this arm of the Danube, you had a view in both directions. On the right, the river's water flowed slime green. The dark boats anchored in the shallows, their bows and sterns turned slightly upward, were sleek and quaint. In the ever-changing waterscape, among the glinting mirrors of the current, among the tide pools roughened by the breeze, their shapes seemed unreal.
Particularly at dusk, when you couldn't tell boat from shadow. They hung in the lucent space like cardboard cutouts, carvings from coal. Bringing to mind remnants of the most ancient night, when they were used to ferry souls. In the Delta I saw nothing more beautiful or more simple. To the left stretched a village of reeds. Fences, roofs, walls, sheds for cattle and for fowl—all made of dry, hollow stalks. Cut reeds lay loose in piles, were tied into sheaves, stood waiting in ricks. A flat human habitation, since nothing high could be built from such material.
Bits of clay had fallen from earth-plastered walls, exposing the construction of poles woven with reeds. The village was like a vast campground. All that these people possessed seemed in constant peril. Then, just as in Sulina, a bare stretch began and continued to the beach. At its edge, just past the village, stood radar towers. I saw a few camouflage trucks behind an enclosure.
I was not drawn to it at all. The military in my part of the world, in times of peace, is always the same: sad and giving off a faint stink.
I preferred to keep my distance. The black latticework of the antennas loomed above the huts of reeds and mud. I tried to imagine the tedium of a post like that, the tedium of empty sky and green computer monitors. Card games, booze smuggled in, talk about women, radio stations on which you might catch Western rock and roll or a folk number. Sleepiness, coffee, and no barbarians on the horizon. But it's quite possible the place was simply a point from which to observe the rest of the world, that monster with no shape or boundary that always lays siege to a people preoccupied with its own existence.
