Eastbound

by Maylis de Kerangal

Wait, let yourself be forgotten, melt like a chameleon among the others, become transparent—Aliocha crouches down, head tucked between his shoulders, retracts his neck, glues his eyes to his knees, I’m not here, I don’t exist—in this moment he’s like little kids playing hide-and-seek who cover their eyes instead of hiding, convinced they are invisible if they themselves can’t see anything.