Some time later, after sobering up, he would somehow try to challenge or wipe out that ordinary experience running through his head, he would pull a pillow over his head and scream: done, done, done, I’m not coming out of this room, I’m not! The doctor had started to appear less, his voice was more likely to be heard, if you want, give me your home number, I’ll call and let your family know, let them come and move you to another base. No, thanks, I don’t want to move to another base, I won’t leave my base. Fine, it’s up to you, and doesn’t your tooth hurt, can I pull it out, if, of course, you’re not against it? No, I don’t want it, go already, I’m fine. His voice was moving away. The blisters on his skin had scabbed, causing severe itchiness. He would get out of his room at night, run dow
