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.