Viktor lives in a villa at the seaside, but this is not our topic. He deserves a much more interesting and longer story, a story only about him. He deserves more than just an introduction. But for now, we shall leave it that way. He asked us our name, our exact birth date and the birth date of our closest relatives (if this is the right expression). You feel uneasiness and anxiety, like in an exam or when facing people who can seriously harm you.
What if you do not know the exact date of birth of your older or younger son? What is your wife’s date of birth? Maybe this story should be told from the beginning: the villa ought to be placed into its reality, its appearance described, as well as the access to it and the way to reach it. How do you talk in it? How do you talk to it? The history of that house is longer than the history of some large towns or nameless stretches of wilderness. It is longer and more interesting if we disregard plants and animals, large and small traces of wind in the sand, if we do not cry over the defeats of lovers when dawn comes and everything looks as if the sun would never rise…
We should come very close to its windows, to the sea, because it seems that this villa, crammed up with books, old and valuable objects, is losing its glory yard by yard, losing everything surrounded and captured by its walls. The villa is moving towards the sea as its owners and friends are abandoning it. Its only reality is a view of the open sea. We hid, the two of us, behind large windows, thinking that we were invisible, imperceptible…
But this is already a story for some other reality and a discussion on landscapes that at a certain moment create an illusion of eternity. Before I say anything about you, it is better that we both return into the future past, to Viktor’s questions, who will forever remember the date of our arrival into the villa, our date of birth and the date of birth of our closest relatives (if this is the right expression!?).