I heard legend of place with many potato. I went on long boat ride to search for magical potato land. I rode on horses - three of them, two die - to Riga. I avoid many soldier on way to shipyard. I sneak on rickety boat and hide under canvas sheet. Also under dead dog.
Boat travels slowly for many days, and I have many sicks. Sicks mostly bile because of no food (except dog). But then - boat stop! I wait until is very quiet, and sneak off boat.
What I see is beautiful land. Green grass and green hills. Things Latvian only dream of. There are animals that look like clouds with legs! Can you imagine? I follow these animals to farmhouse. I knock on door. Old man open.
"I am from Latvia. I heard legend of land with many potato. I come to find potato for family to live," I tell him.
He answer in very strange language I do not understand. It sound like English, but also like old man is gargle. I ask him repeat.
"T’ere aren’t any p’tatoes on t’is fair isle n’more. ‘aven’t yeh heard t’ere’s a famine here in Ireland?"
I walk back to dock and cry. I hide under dog and canvas and cry. I come back to Riga, still cry. I get home, out of tears. Also out of potato.