He was up on his father’s shoulders. The world made so much more sense from up there. The chaos of legs and shoes has been subdued, exchanged for a sea of faces, for waves of heads, banners and flags. They were all shouting, and happily so. The word “president” came up often. He knew what that meant. His father told him on the way here: the captain of a ship. He tried for the third time to touch the tips of his fingers as he saw the grown-ups do and now his V finally came through. “Look, pa, victory!”