He occasionally read a book while sitting on the designer bench. Three is a prime number. The Dispossessed by Szilárd Borbély.
The Girl, the Boy and the Little One. Mother who constantly wants to commit suicide, stopped by the Girl and the Boy, or wants to leave. Father, without work, with work, often drunk and violent or absent. Former kulaks, or at least sometimes identified as such by those around them, not by themselves.
Comrades, peasants, gypsies, former kulaks and not Jews. Five is only divisible by itself. And one. Short rhythmic sentences, an atonal language, impressively disruptive.
Everything that can be excreted by humans and animals is included. Animals are needlessly trampled, beaten, decapitated and also eaten. The highlight is the stud.
Too much booze, always smoking and spitting. Everything is constantly permeated by the banality of minimal existence.
People treat each other like strangers. If one does not exactly comply with the protocol of the comrades, one always remains a plaything of the arbitrariness of the other. Father hits Mother and the children, but not Little One. Mother hits the children, but not the Little One. Only language is the power of mother against father. Then he loses anyway.
The Little One turns blue and dies after thirteen months. Thirteen is only divisible by itself. And one.
That's what the salon nihilist on the bench read. Two is only divisible by itself.
