Analyse og fortolkning af 'The Whaler'

I used to worship him. I used to look at him, with adoring eyes. And in the summertime, I was gazing through the window at him, working outside in the garden. I knew all of his adventures by heart. If anyone named a country, I could retell a lot of great victories and sad memories, from a far away place he had been. The name of my illusion was [NAVN A]. [NAVN A] was an old friend of my dad and they used to travel around in Europe, earning just enough money to live on the streets. They played on their guitars all day long, and by the end of the day they emptied the money-hat and bought food for their survival. I loved these stories and I loved being around [NAVN A]. And like all of the adventures weren’t enough, he also used to take me to the local harbour. He bought me some sweets and then we sat, starring down to the multi-coloured water. We sat there for hours. Every colour of the

rainbow was represented in the water. The colours flowed around in the surface of the water, like a thick mass. And like I loved the stories of [NAVN A], the boy loves the story of the Whaler, in this short-story. But what I didn’t knew on that time, was that the multi-coloured mass in the water was toxic petrol.