Temesvár / Timisoara, 23 December 1989
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Másnap / The day after
Ketten utaztunk az első vonattal, egy osztrák fotóriporter meg én (és velünk pár tucat idealista akik nem számítanak, mert mire Temesvárra értünk egy sem maradt). Az Opera előtti tér ekkorra már üres volt, én is csak ebből a videóból láttam hogy előző nap még mennyien voltak, aztán a templom felől lőni kezdték az Operát és nem vakuztam az ócska kis kompaktgépemmel, hogy ne vakítsam el a katonát aki egy jelszavakkal telefestett lepedő fedezékéből visszalőtt. Amikor a lövöldözés véget ért és összeszedték a sebesülteket a környékbeli utcákról, megmutatták a temetőt, a riporter fényképezett és köpködött én meg nyeltem a rohadásízű nyálat, aztán hazamentünk és amikor márciusban a Csalogány utcában egy kissrác a kezembe nyomott egy szórólapot a vásárhelyi pogromról, nem értette miért lököm el könnyekkel a szememben.
There were two of us on the first train after the border was opened, an Austrian reporter and I (and a bunch of idealists who don't count as none of them was left when we arrived at Temesvar/Timisoara). The place in front of the Opera was empty by then, I saw it only now from this video how many were there the day before, but then the shooting started again and I didn't use the flash on my little compact camera to avoind blinding the soldier who returned fire from the cover of a linen painted with people's demands. When the shooting ceased and the wounded were brought in, they showed us to the cemetary, the reporter photographed and spat and I swallowed saliva that tasted like decay, and then we went home and when a small boy wanted to give me a flyer about the pogroms over there he didn't understand why I refuse it with tears in my eyes.
There were two of us on the first train after the border was opened, an Austrian reporter and I (and a bunch of idealists who don't count as none of them was left when we arrived at Temesvar/Timisoara). The place in front of the Opera was empty by then, I saw it only now from this video how many were there the day before, but then the shooting started again and I didn't use the flash on my little compact camera to avoind blinding the soldier who returned fire from the cover of a linen painted with people's demands. When the shooting ceased and the wounded were brought in, they showed us to the cemetary, the reporter photographed and spat and I swallowed saliva that tasted like decay, and then we went home and when a small boy wanted to give me a flyer about the pogroms over there he didn't understand why I refuse it with tears in my eyes.
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