Chapter Thirty-Six
Our days went by like a recurring dream filled with hunger and malice. Scorched soldiers were scooped up by the dozen and disgorged like garbage before the door of our lazaretto. Men the colour of parched trees, their skin fraying in pieces, their eyes glowing red-and-white in their fire-eaten faces. Men who stared at me with flaring hollows where their nostrils had been. Every gulp of air they inhaled produced a hideous whistle; together, they piped death’s tune.
I notice I’m trying to find images to explain how it was. I scold myself and my stomach sprays bile in my throat. Why, for God’s sake, am I searching for soulful words to describe this butchery? Why do those words have to be compelling? The c*****e was mundane and repulsive, and that was it.
Evil reigned eve
