Nobody knew, if there was a father. on the seas? Or diplomat?
The mother had long, fell, Greasy hair. Kind and confused she put the candles in the cake, but wrong, on Mark's eleventh birthday.
Everyone canceled except for me and two others, the parents ultimately decide, with whom the child is in contact.
Mark was a jerk, the smallest in the class. Because he could only sit and wobble, the slipper jumped off his foot through the air, I laughed my ass off and had to go out the door.
Mark had a small notebook, in which every free minute, scribbled numbers into it. Speed of Light; that was it, what he calculated.
As always, at the spring festival in the forest, all the students overwhelm themselves with the sausages and the kitchen. Many vomited on the way back in the semi-darkness, her parents blamed the sausages.
My father told, like Mark, who was jolly, took his hand in the twilight, and didn't let go the whole way back. Years later he was still telling it. My father only had two daughters. Neither of them cared about the speed of light.
Mark soon moved away.
Many years later he sent me a postcard from his circumnavigation of the sea. He wrote so wildly, that I could hardly read a word.
He wrote the map in English, because that was the international language, the one around the world, (also among physicists) spoke and understood.
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(30.7.22)