The player behind you caught the ball to throw it back against the wall—this time for them to jump for you to catch. There could be more players in the game though, so you had to wait for your turn in the line of jumpers. I was enchanted by the game’s infinity. It was like those endless pictures on the red side of Fire Extinguisher…
We played outside the Courtyard as well, across the ever-empty road surrounding the twin blocks.
Atop the tilt towards the Recruit Depot Barracks, a tall board-fencing enclosed large garbage containers for all of our Block. Next to the fence, there stretched a level area grown with green grass except for a lonely sagging pile of sand by the enclosure, probably, a leftover from the construction times and later used like any sand by any children in any sandbox. Apart from all those uses, we played a special sand game though, which had no name.
You just scooped a handful of sand and tossed it up, trying to catch the returning sand into your palm, as much as you could. The catch was held in the outstretched hand and you pronounced the ritual formula, “So much—for Lenin!”
Then the sand in the palm was thrown up again and caught back once again. Over the second catch, the words in the formula changed the proposed addressee, “So much—for Stalin!”
After the third toss, no one cared to catch the sand, on the contrary, they hid their hands behind their backs to avoid the downing sand, and then even clapped to ensure not a random grain had any chance to keep stuck to the palm, “And so much—for Hitler! That’s that!”
Somehow, I felt ill at ease about not fully fair play in the game when you leave the last in the trinity without the tiniest speck of sand. And one day playing at the pile alone, I broke the rules and caught a pinch of sand even for Hitler although I knew he was a very bad one and even had a tail before they caught him…
Besides, we used the sprawling sandpile’s outskirts for constructing of “secrets”—small holes scooped out no deeper than a teacup—whose bottoms we floored with the heads from the flowers picked in the grass. A shard of pane glass put upon the petals of the heads pressed them down and imparted a look of somewhat melancholic beauty. Then the hole was filled up and leveled and we made arrangements over it “to check our secret” the following day, however, either we forgot or it was raining, and later we could not find “the secret”, so just produced another one…
One day the rain caught me in one of the round gazebos in the Courtyard. As a matter of fact, it sooner was crossbred of the outright deluge with a thunderstorm. Black clouds piled up over the entire Courtyard, all around got wrapped in the dark as if sunk a flushing night. The adults and children who happened to be in the gazebo scattered racing along the walks towards their houses. Only I tarried over a forgotten book with the pictures of three hunters roaming thru the mountain woods until the waterfall rushed down from the darkness above. It was unthinkable to run home thru that roaring flood, I had to only wait until it was over.