Thank you for that heel of bread—the first I’ve had in days. I have seen too much, and too little. Two kilometres up the road, there’s a checkpoint. What happens beyond that is a mystery. Maybe lovers walk the meadows, and cows graze the fields. Maybe there is only rubble, I don’t know. But I know what happened here. I could tell you stories. But I’d rather forget. I just want to feel something again.