EDITA
When the phone rang, Vladimír wasn’t sleeping. He was just lying in the dark, staring up at the ceiling, as it happens with people who aren’t able to do anything else. He could still make the children their supper, give them a bath, put them to bed and begin to read them a fairy tale from the dark woods. He would have read even further, but both of them fell asleep. There was nothing else for him to do now but to grow silent and go off to the bedroom and lay there like a fallen tree.
He gazed at the dark ceiling with his tired eyes, and didn’t know who he was. No, not a bit. A cold forehead and sweaty feet. He was full of anger at all that love; he’d have gladly sent the one and the other to the devil. He’d gladly have lived alone with his own, for Pete’s sake, his own children som
