REVELATION-final1

children again and tell them that I never left them, that they are always in my heart, and despitemy absence they have always been in my heart.Quebec turned into New Brunswick and night into day. The snow stopped and the ploughsappeared on the barren highways. Edmundston, Fredericton and then St. John’s, all strangecities, all far away from my children, all dreadfully cold and dead silent in the morning after thestorm. But none as dreadful as the desolation in my heart and the devastation in my mind.None as ravaged as my soul.I found myself a bed and breakfast in St. John’s since I could not stay at a hotel as they wouldhave required a credit card and I knew I could not use plastic as long as I am a fugitive frominjustice. Wasting no time, I headed for the port to see if any ships were sailing to Europe, butnone were for days to come. This meant I would have to drive even further east, to Halifax,Nova Scotia, or try to find a place to cross clandestinely into the US between the border of theprovince of New Brunswick in Canada and the state of Maine in the US, which is just 100 Km tothe east of the city of St. John’s. So I bought detailed maps and spent the rest of the day lookingfor the right topography and the easiest place to slip over the border undetected. The spot Isettled on is the town of Saint Stephen on the Canadian side and the town of Calais on theAmerican side, as they are facing each other and are separated only by a small river, which Icould easily swim over if only I had one of my scuba diving suits with me.Satisfied that I had found a way out of Canada I settled into my luxurious room and after a bath Iclosed the curtains and fell into a deep and troubled sleep. I rose with the sun and made it intoSaint Stephen in about an hour, all the while looking over my shoulder to admire the deep bluehues of the Bay of Fundy, which is known for its high tides, the highest in the world in fact.Once in Saint Stephen, I sought out the closest bed and breakfast to the border and checked in atthe Blair House Heritage Inn, a lovely Victorian mansion, as Mugur Catalin, my first and middlename, but left out my last name just in case a police alert had been issued. I then went for a walkalong the border to find the best bend in the river where I could swim or float over to the otherside. It took me six hours of careful consideration to find the right spot, but I did, just a 30minute walk from my bed and breakfast.Next I went looking for either a boat or a diving suit but since Saint Stephen is a rather smalltown and has limited shopping and it was the middle of the winter I found neither a boat nor adiving suit. Instead I bought a self-inflatable camping bed for $75 and hoped it would suffice tosee me safely to the other side.The only problems remaining were what to do with the car and finding transportation to Florida,where my twin sister lives, once I made it to the other side. So I decided to ask the B&B owner,a gracious British gent, to keep my car in his backyard for a week as I was going into the USwith friends, I told him. He agreed and, relieved that I had solved another logistical problem, Iset out to make inquiries into public transportation, which proved to be more difficult than I147