"Dreilandpunkt. Drielandpunt. Aux Trois Bornes. " With peculiar pronunciation, I stammered recite words that are hardwired in a sort of oval-shaped coins found my granddaughter.
Flip through the flat object made of bronze was, kubujuk him: "this is not a currency, dear. ATOK obtained by inserting coins into a machine a real mechanic. Play engkolnya. And out came this eye sign. Gift shop for you from meeting point border between Germany, the Netherlands, and Belgium, still tucked in my pocket. "
The engine was located under the tandamata. At the foot of a tower that soars high as about to heading the space the lazy autumn. Around noon, down there, lay colorful forests as a new tapestry unfolds far and rushed the race was about to kiss the horizon. Leaves change color resist cold weather and wind sweeping the arid continent freeze. Yellow, brownish red, too. Ditingkahi the tip-tops the FIR remains green. Yes, only the firs survive against bengisnya of the season, which hinted at Christmaswill be eternal. Unbeatable. And he willingly give themselves ready to cut down a people who celebrate it. The other side of the wind, the colorful forest expanses that sometimes turns into the ocean with the waves that run down missed the rim to lay down.
Ah, sedapnya sit here while gazing at a distance. Looking at the past. The temperature is a few steps below the freezing point, but still fantasy. Below, at the foot of the Tower, the yellow leaves dry out, fall out, and mocked the wind. Ran aground on the ground where a milestone three States limit plugged. The milestone that testifies tothe power of love. Between me and my wife. And that love exceeding our consciousness toward the homeland, where an authority are waging terror against its own citizens, following a political disaster half a century ago, leading to hundreds of thousands killed, while we who are on the abroad cannot return home. Unless willing to die. Or at least ready to be imprisoned.
In the number of hundreds, we gentayangan in European countries without a passport. Hurt, indeed, if it is remembered. Because the dogs alone in this remote land pocketed certificate. However, love does not need a piece of paper. He's just calling out to steadiness.
Are two of Japan's youth are not afraid to die for loyalty on brotherhood with people being wasted like us. They are pelesir and disguised as back-packers to find a safeto cross the border for people like us from one country to another in Europe. And they find the intersection of the borders of the three countries.
Armed with a potluck, I and my wife docked to Aachen, Germany the town just a stone's throw to the border. Acting as the newlyweds are honeymooning, the few times we were here, sitting on the bench are lazy to recognize it thoroughly. Yes, we must recognize it just as we know the skin and fur of Rome on our own well. If necessary take the sandy soil sekepal, lick and menciuminya to recall the aroma. Also the trunk of trees and leaves. Because we plan are betting between caught and happinessof man who has a nationality.
Its not selebat and seganas Nantalu in the kampungku forest, not far from the Asahan River. Much more friendly. Rift. More precisely, it looks like rubber. Easy to slip between the meanders beneath the young. Friendly anyway.
Me and the wife was born when the Netherlands has yet to recognize the Republic.So, if we apply for citizenship in the country, of course, more likely accepted than those that come from the territory of a non-Royal Netherlands colonies. At least that'sour mind.
On one day, which was until this very second, his memory still attached firmly in my memory, we stand again at the border. Leading up to the fall in the dark. The loss leaves no visible. For the last time. We had to step up to the small forest at the territory of the Netherlands in a State clean. With the heart beating strong-strong and heart diperteguh. No piece of paper shall be living in our bodies. Because if caught, we definitely punished, lucky if just kicked back to Germany.
I asked my wife to submit papers that are in her wallet. Forbid him to.
Love and death on the border of three countries
4/
5
Oleh
Syaf
