A Memory I

I remember being a kid on holiday with my parents and my sister in 1986. We were driving to Bibione in Italy, and from there we went on a day trip to Croatia.

I remember the border patrol guards wearing green uniforms and machine guns, asking my dad if he brought any goods that were eligble for customs. And then I remember being in this dripstone cave deep underground.

I remember freezing my legs, even though it was scolding hot on the surface. I remember sitting on a one-way track in a cart with my dad nuzzeling against him because I was scared about us hitting our heads. There was a sign above a tunnel that said "Duck" or something like that in Croatian and possibly German as well. It was crazy beautiful and dark and serene. I was wearing a knitted sweater.