Chapter Four ~ Everything Is Wrong
“Even the Moon who now tiptoes
into the rectangle of my window
is no longer the same.
The moment when a human foot
first stepped on her
she was already dead.”
(The Selected Poetry of Jaroslav Seifert, Jaroslav Seifert)
I hid Dad’s diary under my pillow. After my bedtime story, which I couldn’t seem to listen to at all, I counted a minute and slid out of bed. I could see the writing in a strip of light from the gap between the door and the wall. If I kept moving the notebook back and forward I could read the words. I knew now that Dad had known that everything that had happened so far would happen as it had and that he had left a message for me that could only be read in this way. Dad had discovered that things are not just how things are.
Lik
