After Viktor's funeral mom and dad got drunk. In the commonplace chaos that grew beyond control in our house I set fire to my books and didn't read for two years. When people wondered what happened to Viktor I told them he was killed by Kafka.

"Who's Kafka?" they said "is that the crazy guy that used 2 talk 2 himself?"
"Sort of" I answered.

Kafka was the book daddy read while Viktor was alone out there trying 2 swim, without knowing how 2.

Now, all I remember is my brother dancing on the shore, happy smiling, telling me he needed to fill his bucket with some water.
And me smoking that cigarett behind the toilets.
And a LOT of people running in a lot of directions.

Sort of the same story everyday since.


10 comments:

  1. sad and beautiful. thanks for sharing.

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  2. My heart sank. Touching prose.

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  3. can't even imagine how it feels to loose someone that close. all my thoughts to you

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  4. sometimes i get the feeling you're trapped in a dream.

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  5. dance along the silver shores and beat the turtle drums.
    so that youth may last forever.
    and sorrow never come.

    Nick Dean
    (facebook friend)

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  6. gina g, sometimes, i get that feeling too

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  7. Anonymous, eternal youth. that's a beautiful way of looking at it.

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  8. raw, too old. but good guessing!

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