the joke
A plan, so I have something to hold on to. This year I will read all of Milan Kundera's novels, in order. There are eleven. He was born a few streets from here, in Královo Pole, in 1929. I have walked past the house a thousand times and never once thought about it.
The first one is Žert, The Joke. I read it in 1968, when I was fifteen, under the blanket, because my father said it was not for girls. Now I read it at the kitchen table with tea. It is a much angrier book than I remembered.
Saturday market at Zelný trh this morning. Apples, a cabbage I don't need, and a věneček from the bakery on the corner. Vanilla. Pavel always took the chocolate one, so I took vanilla.