Page 16
There is also a dog to keep away thieves and a cat to keep away mice and rats. We mustn’t give the cat anything to eat, so that he’s always hungry.
Page 25
Grandmother has sold everything.
Page 25
We smell of a mixture of manure, fish, grass, mushrooms, smoke, milk, cheese, mud, clay, earth, sweat, urine and mould.
Our nails, which are never cut, break, and our hair, which is almost white because of the sun, reaches down to our shoulders. The privy is at the bottom of the garden.
Page 30
Mother used to say to us: ‘My darlings! My loves! My joy! My adorable little babies!’ When we remember these words, our eyes fill with tears. We must forget these words because, now, nobody says such words to us and because our memory of them is too heavy a burden to bear.
Page 31
By repeating them we make these words gradually lose their meaning and the pain that they carry in them is reduced.
Page 32
‘No, never. I know. I know them. They are one and the same person.’ Father raises his voice: ‘Precisely, it isn’t normal. They think together. They act together. They live in a different world. In a world of their own. It isn’t very healthy. It’s even rather worrying. Yes, they worry me. They’re odd. You never know what they might be thinking. They’re too advanced for their age. They know too much.’
Page 33
Soon he leaves for the front. He’s a journalist, a war correspondent.
Page 35
‘The price of eggs increases day by day. On the other hand, the price of paper and pencils . . .’
Page 36
We have lessons in spelling, composition, reading, mental arithmetic, mathematics and learning by heart. We use the dictionary for spelling, to obtain explanations, but also to learn new words, synonyms and antonyms. We use the Bible for reading aloud, dictation and learning by heart. We are therefore learning whole pages of the Bible by heart.
Page 36-37
To decide whether it is ‘Good’ or ‘Not good’, we have a very simple rule: the composition must be true. We must describe what is, what we see, what we hear, what we do.
Page 36-37
If it’s ‘Not good’, we throw the composition in the fire and try to write about the same subject in the next lesson. If it’s ‘Good’, we can copy out the composition into the Big Notebook.
Page 37
Words that define feelings are very vague; it is better to avoid using them and to stick to the description of objects, human beings and oneself; that is to say, to the faithful description of facts.
Page 39
We look at her. It’s the first time we have seen her close to. She has a harelip, she is cross-eyed, she has snot in her nose and, in the corner of her red eyes, yellow dirt. Her legs and arms are covered with pimples.
Page 42
coins in the tall grass at the roadside. It is impossible to throw away the stroking on our hair.
Page 42
On our way home, we throw away the apples, biscuits and coins in the tall grass at the roadside. It is impossible to throw away the stroking on our hair.
Page 48
‘We didn’t want to be kind. We have brought you the things because you absolutely need them. That’s all.’
Page 48
His eyes fill with tears. We say: ‘Crying is no use, you know. We never cry. Yet we aren’t men, like you.’ He smiles and says: ‘You’re right. Excuse me, I won’t do it any more. It’s just because I’m exhausted.’
Page 57
The big children often attack the small ones. They take all they have in their pockets and sometimes they even take their clothes. They beat them up, too, especially those who come from elsewhere. The young ones who are from here are protected by their mothers and never go out alone.
Page 59
We hand the filled bucket to Harelip. She asks us: ‘Why didn’t you help me right away?’ ‘We wanted to see how you defended yourself.’ ‘What would I have been able to do against three big lads?’ ‘Throw your bucket at their heads, scratch their faces, kick them in the balls, shout and yell, or run off and come back later.’
Page 62
Grandmother says nothing, she cries. We say again: ‘It’s Mother who sends money, Mother who writes you letters.’ Grandmother says: ‘It isn’t to me she writes. She knows very well I can’t read. She never used to write to me. Now you’re here, she writes. But I don’t need her letters! I don’t need anything that comes from her!’
Page 67
‘Nobody’s making you say anything. Be off with you. No. Wait a moment! Take these slippers, too, and these sandals for the summer and these shoes, too, they’re very strong. Take whatever you like.’ ‘But why are you giving us all these things?’ ‘I don’t need them any more. I’ll be going away soon.’ We ask: ‘Where are you going to?’ ‘Who knows? They’ll take me away and kill me.’
Page 71
She thinks about it and says: ‘Go and ask the parish priest. He sometimes used to give me money when I let him see my slit.’ ‘He asked you that?’ ‘Yes. And sometimes he put his finger in. And afterwards he gave me money not to tell anybody. Tell him Harelip and her mother need money.’
Page 76
He laughs. We say: ‘We know a blind, deaf woman who lives near here with her daughter. They won’t survive this winter.’ ‘It is not my fault.’ ‘Yes, it is your fault. Yours and your country’s. You brought us the war.’ ‘Before the war, how they do to eat, the blind woman and daughter?’ ‘Before the war, they lived on charity. People gave them old clothes and shoes. They brought them food. Now nobody gives anything any more. The people are all poor or are afraid of becoming so. The war has made them mean and selfish.’
Page 76
‘Everything on that table comes from our country: the drink, the canned food, the biscuits, the sugar. Our country feeds your army.’
Page 82
She strokes and kisses us all over our bodies. With her tongue she tickles us on our necks, under our arms, between our buttocks. She kneels down in front of the seat and sucks our cocks, which get bigger and harder in her mouth. She is now sitting between us; she puts her arms around us and presses us to her: ‘If I had two pretty little babies like you, I’d give them lovely sweet milk to drink, here, like this.’ She pulls our heads down to her breasts, which are sticking out of her bathrobe, and we suck the pink ends, which become very hard. She puts her hands under her bathrobe and rubs herself between the legs: ‘What a pity you aren’t older! Oh! How nice it is, how nice it is to play with you!’ She sighs, pants, then, suddenly, stiffens.
Page 82
She strokes and kisses us all over our bodies. With her tongue she tickles us on our necks, under our arms, between our buttocks. She kneels down in front of the seat and sucks our cocks, which get bigger and harder in her mouth.
Page 85
The priest is silent for a while, then he says: ‘So you know the Ten Commandments. Do you obey them?’ ‘No, sir, we do not obey them.
Page 85
The priest is silent for a while, then he says: ‘So you know the Ten Commandments. Do you obey them?’ ‘No, sir, we do not obey them. Nobody obeys them. It is written “Thou shalt not kill” and everybody kills.’
Page 86
The priest looks at us. He asks: ‘What kind of books would you like to read?’ ‘History books and geography books. Books that tell us true things, not invented things.’
Page 89
The batman and the housekeeper are lying on the bed. The housekeeper is entirely naked; the batman has just his shirt and socks on. He is lying on the housekeeper and both move backwards and forwards and from left to right. The batman moans like Grandmother’s pig and the housekeeper cries out, as if in pain, but she also laughs at the same time and says: ‘Yes, yes, yes! Oh! Oh! Oh!’
Page 92
The officer’s back is marked with red lines. We hit harder and harder. The officer moans and, without changing position, pulls down his trousers and underpants to his ankles. We hit his white buttocks, his thighs, his legs, his back, his neck, his shoulders as hard as we can and everything becomes red.
Page 92
SM
Page 94
‘We want to urinate. We must go.’ ‘Don’t go. Do it here.’ We ask: ‘Where?’ He says: ‘On me. Yes. Don’t be afraid. Piss! On my face.’ We do it, then we go out into the garden, because the bed is all wet. The sun has already risen; we start our morning tasks.
Page 95
The officer’s friend says: ‘These kids annoy me. Send them out.’ The officer asks: ‘Are you jealous?’ The friend answers: ‘Of them? Don’t be grotesque! Two little savages like them.’
Page 96
The officer says: ‘They are the two most intelligent children I have ever known.’ The friend says: ‘You’re just saying that to hurt me. You do everything to torment and humiliate me. One day I’ll kill you!’ The officer throws his revolver on the table: ‘If only you would. Take it. Kill me! Go on!’ The friend picks up the revolver and points it at the officer: ‘I shall do it. You’ll see, I shall do it. The next time you speak to me about him, about the other one, I’ll kill you.’
Page 96
The officer says: ‘They are the two most intelligent children I have ever known.’ The friend says: ‘You’re just saying that to hurt me. You do everything to torment and humiliate me. One day I’ll kill you!’ The officer throws his revolver on the table: ‘If only you would. Take it. Kill me! Go on!’ The friend picks up the revolver and points it at the officer: ‘I shall do it. You’ll see, I shall do it. The next time you speak to me about him, about the other one, I’ll kill you.’ The officer shuts his eyes and smiles: ‘He was handsome . . . young . . . strong . . . graceful . . . delicate . . . cultivated . . . tender . . . dreamy . . . brave . . . insolent . . . I loved him. He died on the Eastern Front. He was nineteen. I can’t live without him.’
Page 97
‘Do you think he’s going to kill himself?’ The batman laughs: ‘You, have no fear. They always do that when drink too much. I unload two revolvers before.’ We go into the room and say to the officer: ‘We will kill you if you really want us to. Give us your revolver.’ The friend says: ‘Little bastards!’ The officer smiles and says: ‘Thank you. That’s very kind of you, but we were only playing. Go to bed now.’
Page 99
We pick up the mouth organ and clean it. Someone says: ‘He’s deaf.’ Someone else says: ‘He’s not only deaf. He’s completely mad.’
Page 99
A woman says: ‘Deaf or mad, at least he came back. You, too, came back.’ She sits down on the knees of the one-armed man, who says: ‘You’re right, my beauty, I have come back. But what am I going to work with? What am I going to hold the plank to be sawn with? My empty coat-sleeve?’
Page 99
Another woman says: ‘You’re never satisfied. All those I see dying in the hospital say: “Whatever state I’m in, I’d rather survive and go home, see my wife, my mother, and live a little longer.”’ A man says: ‘You shut up. Women have seen nothing of the war.’ The woman says: ‘Seen nothing? Silly bugger! We’ve all the work and all the worry: the children to feed and the wounded to look after. Once the war is over, you men
Page 100
‘Seen nothing? Silly bugger! We’ve all the work and all the worry: the children to feed and the wounded to look after. Once the war is over, you men are all heroes. The dead: heroes. The survivors: heroes. The maimed: heroes. That’s why you men invented war. It’s your war. You wanted it, so get on with it. Heroes, my arse!’
Page 100
War does not have womens face
Page 101
We invent conjuring tricks with cards and cigarettes. We are also training to do acrobatics. We can do cartwheels, somersaults backwards and forwards, and we can walk on our hands with perfect ease.
Page 101
Circus show
Page 102
People who drink part easily with their money. They confide in people easily, too. We learn all kinds of secrets about all kinds of people.
Page 102
Drinking effect
Page 103
‘My hands are frozen, sir.’ ‘Come here! Show them to me! It’s disgusting! Your hands are all chapped and covered with sores.’ ‘They’re chilblains, sir.’ ‘You poor people are always getting disgusting illnesses. You’re dirty, that’s the trouble with you. Here, this is for your work.’
Page 103
He throws a packet of cigarettes to the poor man, who lights one and starts to smoke it. But there’s no ashtray where he is standing near the door and he doesn’t dare to go near the table. So he flicks the ash from his cigarette into the palm of his hand.
Page 104
The rich man shuts the door, sits down in front of a plate of soup and says, joining his hands: ‘I give thanks to Thee, Lord Jesus, for all Thy mercies.’
Page 103
The Story of the Poor Man and the Rich Man.
Page 105
Sometimes the doors of houses and shops are left open. We take advantage of this to go in and quietly take whatever we like.
Page 105
Sometimes, however, a bomb does drop on a house. In which case, we locate the place from the direction of the smoke and go and see what has been destroyed. If there is anything left to take, we take it.
Page 105
We have noticed that the people who are in the cellar of a bombed house are always dead. On the other hand, the chimney-stack of the house almost always remains standing.
Page 109
The housekeeper says: ‘Finish your bread and butter.’ We say: ‘We aren’t hungry any more.’ We go into the room. The priest turns round: ‘Do you want to pray with me, my children?’ ‘We never pray, as you know very well. We want to understand.’ ‘You cannot understand. You are too young.’ ‘You are not too young. That’s why we are asking you. Who are those people? Where are they being taken? Why?’
Page 109
You(priest) are not too young
Page 110
We go into the kitchen. The housekeeper hands us our parcel of clean washing. We each take a shirt. The housekeeper says: ‘You’re too sensitive. The best thing you can do is to forget what you’ve seen.’ ‘We never forget anything.’
Page 110
We go into the kitchen. The housekeeper hands us our parcel of clean washing. We each take a shirt. The housekeeper says: ‘You’re too sensitive. The best thing you can do is to forget what you’ve seen.’ ‘We never forget anything.’ She pushes us to the door: ‘Off you go and don’t worry! None of that has anything to do with you. It’ll never happen to you. Those people are only animals.’
Page 112
We take off her shoes. Her shawl slips off and we see that she is completely bald. We put back her shawl.
Page 111
‘No, those who came today came from somewhere else. In cattle trucks. He was killed here, in his workshop, with his own tools. Don’t worry. God sees everything. He will recognize His Own.’
Page 117
‘If something blows up in your face, you’re bound to end up in hospital, or even in the morgue. It’s a good thing she isn’t dead.’ ‘She’s disfigured for life!’
Page 117
‘It wasn’t an accident. Someone hid an explosive in the firewood. A cartridge from an army rifle. We’ve found the case.’
Page 123
‘We never play.’ He asks: ‘What do you do, then?’ ‘We work, we study, we do exercises.’
Page 126
Our cousin doesn’t work, doesn’t study, doesn’t do exercises. Often she stares at the sky, sometimes she cries. Grandmother never hits our cousin. She never swears at her. She doesn’t ask her to work. She doesn’t ask her to do anything. She never speaks to her.
Page 128
‘And what if they come back? What if they ask for them back? Once the danger is over, they forget. They don’t know what gratitude is. They promise the earth and then . . . No, no, they’re already dead. The old gentleman will die, too. He said I could keep everything . . . But the girl . . . She saw everything, heard everything, she’ll want to get them back, that’s for sure. After the war, she’ll claim them back. But I don’t want to give them back – I cannot. They’re mine. For ever . . . She must die, too. Then there’ll be no proof. No one’ll be any the wiser. Yes, the girl will have to die. She’ll have an accident. Just before the end of the war. Yes, it will have to be an accident. Not poison. Not this time. An accident.
Page 129
‘Listen, Grandmother. We promised the old gentleman to look after our cousin. So nothing must happen to her – either through accident or illness. Nothing. Or to us either.’ We show her a sealed envelope: ‘Everything is written down. We are going to give this letter to the priest. If anything happens to any of the three of us, the priest will open the letter. Do you understand, Grandmother?’
Page 131
One of them keeps watch, sitting on a seat at the edge of the path. If someone comes, he whistles a well-known tune and stays where he is. The group disperses and hides in the bushes or behind the gravestones. When the danger is over, the one keeping watch whistles a different tune.
Page 131
The group talks very quietly about the war and about desertions, deportations, resistance and liberation.
Page 131
According to them, the foreign soldiers who are in our country and who claim to be our allies are in fact our enemies and those who will be here soon and win the war are not enemies but, on the contrary, our liberators.
Page 132
The boy says: ‘Yes, you’re right. But stroke me. Give me your hand. Stroke me there, like that. Turn round. I want to kiss you there, there, while you stroke me.’ Our cousin says: ‘No, don’t do that. I’m ashamed. Oh! Go on, go on! I love you, I love you so much.’
Page 133
Lust again
Page 134
‘With the money we earn playing music in the cafés.’ ‘The cafés are places of perdition. Especially at your age.’
Page 134
‘Keep it. You have given enough. We took your money when it was absolutely necessary. Now we earn enough money to give some to Harelip. We’ve also taught her to work. We have helped her dig her garden and plant potatoes, beans, marrows and tomatoes. We’ve given her chicks and rabbits to rear. She looks after her garden and her animals. She doesn’t beg any more. She doesn’t need your money any more.’
Page 135
‘You’re wrong. Such a crime is very hard to bear. Confession will make it easier for you. God forgives all those who are sincerely sorry for their sins.’ We say: ‘We’re sorry for nothing. We have nothing to be sorry about.’ After a long pause he says: ‘I saw it all through the window. The piece of bread . . . But vengeance belongs only to God. You have no right to do His work for Him.’
Page 137
One day, people say that the army has surrendered, there is an armistice and the war is over. Next day, people say that there is a new government and the war is going on.
Page 138
Many people pass in front of Grandmother’s house. They, too, are going into the other country. They say they are leaving our country for ever, because the enemy is arriving and will take its revenge. It will reduce our people to slavery.
Page 139
‘Keep these to remember me by. But not the dictionary. You’ll have to learn another language.’
Page 140
We enter the camp. It is empty. There is nobody there. Some of the buildings are still burning. The stench is unbearable, but we hold our noses and keep going. We come up against a barbed-wire fence. We go up a watchtower. We see a big square on which there are four tall, black piles. We spot an opening, a gap in the fence. We go down the watchtower and find the way in. It’s a big iron gate, which has been left open. Above it is written in the foreign language: ‘Transit Camp’. We go in. The black piles we saw from above consist of burnt bodies. Some of them have been thoroughly burnt and only the bones remain. Others are scarcely blackened at all. There are many of these. Large and small. Adults and children. We think that they killed them first, then piled them up, poured petrol over them and set light to them. We vomit. We run out of the camp. We go home. Grandmother calls us in to eat, but we vomit again.
Page 143
We say: ‘We like it here, Mother. You go. We’re quite happy at Grandmother’s.’
Page 143
The officer takes Mother in his arms, but she pushes him away. The officer goes and sits in the Jeep and starts the engine. At precisely that moment, there is an explosion in the garden. Immediately afterwards, we see Mother on the ground. The officer runs towards her. Grandmother tries to hold us back. She says: ‘Don’t look! Go back into the house!’
Page 143
The officer takes Mother in his arms, but she pushes him away. The officer goes and sits in the Jeep and starts the engine. At precisely that moment, there is an explosion in the garden. Immediately afterwards, we see Mother on the ground. The officer runs towards her. Grandmother tries to hold us back. She says: ‘Don’t look! Go back into the house!’ The officer swears, runs to his Jeep and drives off at top speed. We look at Mother. Her guts are coming out of her belly. She is red all over. So is the baby. Mother’s head is hanging in the hole made by the shell. Her eyes are open and still wet with tears. Grandmother says: ‘Go and fetch the spade!’ We lay a blanket at the bottom of the hole and lay Mother on it. The baby is still held to her breast. We cover them with another blanket, then fill in the hole.
Page 145
Grandmother says something in the language she speaks when she drinks her brandy. The soldiers answer. Grandmother
Page 146
‘I have a friend here. Is he on your list, too?’ She says the name of her lover. The civilian consults his list: ‘Yes. He’s already at army headquarters. You’ll travel together. Get your things ready.’
Page 146
‘I’d like to have your names all the same.’ We tell him them. He looks at his papers. ‘You’re not on my list. You can keep them, madam.’ Grandmother says: ‘What do you mean, I can keep them? Of course I can keep them!’
Page 148
‘They’ll carry out searches. They’ll go into everybody’s house and search it. And they’ll take whatever they like. I’ve lived through one war already and I know what happens. We’ve nothing to be afraid of: there’s nothing to take here and I know how to talk to them.’ ‘But what are they looking for, Grandmother?’ ‘Spies, weapons, munitions, watches, gold, women.’
Page 149
We take our time choosing what we need: a complete encyclopaedia in several volumes, pencils and paper.
Page 149
The soldiers are also drinking and are going back to the houses but, this time, to find women. Everywhere we can hear gunfire and the cries of women being raped. On the town square, a soldier is playing the accordion. Other soldiers are dancing and singing.
Page 151
Harelip is lying on the bed. She is naked. Between her spread legs there is a dried pool of blood and sperm. Her eyelashes are stuck together for ever and her lips are curled up over her black teeth in an eternal smile: Harelip is dead. Our neighbour says: ‘Yes. She called them in. She went out on to the road and made a sign to them to come. There were twelve or fifteen of them. And as they had her, one after another, she kept shouting: “Oh, this is good, this is good! Come, all of you, come, another one, another one!” She died happy, fucked to death.
Page 153
For weeks now, we have seen the victorious army of the new foreigners, which we now call the army of the Liberators, march past Grandmother’s house. Tanks, cannons, armoured cars and trucks cross the frontier night and day. The front is moving further and further into the neighbouring country. In the opposite direction comes another procession: the prisoners of war, the defeated. Among them are many men from our own country.
Page 154
‘It’s simple, Grandmother. All you have to do is to talk to us in that language all day and, in the end, we’ll understand.’ Soon we know enough to act as interpreters between the local inhabitants and the Liberators. We take advantage of the fact to trade in articles that the army has plenty of, like cigarettes, tobacco and chocolate, which we exchange for what the civilians have – wine, brandy and fruit. Money has no value any more; everyone barters. The girls sleep with the soldiers in exchange for silk stockings, jewellery, perfume, watches and other articles that the soldiers have picked up in the towns on their way.
Page 154
Everybody is short of everything. We and Grandmother have everything we need.
Page 154
In the schools, the language of our Liberators is compulsory; other foreign languages are forbidden.
Page 155
Our country is surrounded by barbed wire; we are completely cut off from the rest of the world.
Page 156
We burn the letter. Soon we get a second. It says that if we don’t go to school, Grandmother will be punished by law. We burn that letter, too. We say to Grandmother: ‘Grandmother, don’t forget that one of us is blind and the other deaf.’
Page 158
We receive a third letter in which it says that we have been exempted from attending school on account of our infirmity and our physical trauma.
Page 159
‘In exchange for your land, we’ll install running water and electricity in your house.’
Page 160
‘As you yourself have observed, that land has great sentimental value for her and the army would certainly not want to rob of her hard-earned property a poor old lady who, what’s more, is a native of the country of our heroic Liberators.’ The officer says: ‘Ah, yes? She’s a native . . .’ ‘Yes. She speaks their language perfectly. And we do, too. And if you have any intention of committing an abuse . . .’ The officer says very quickly: ‘No, no! What do you want?’ ‘In addition to the water and electricity, we want a bathroom.’
Page 162
‘Your grandmother has had an attack of apoplexy, a cerebral haemorrhage.’
Page 162
‘Feed her, wash her. She’ll probably be permanently paralysed.’ The doctor leaves. We make a purée of vegetables and feed Grandmother with a small spoon. By evening, it smells very bad in her room. We lift her blankets: her straw mattress is full of excrement.
Page 163
We undress Grandmother, wash her in our bath-tub and make her a clean bed. She is so thin that the babies’ knickers fit her very well. We change her nappies several times a day.
Page 165
No one says anything for some time, then Grandmother says: ‘That isn’t all. When I have a new attack, I want you to know that I don’t want your bath, your knickers, or your nappies.’ She gets up and rummages around on the shelf among her bottles. She comes back with a small blue bottle: ‘Instead of all your filthy medicines, you’ll pour the contents of this bottle into my first cup of milk.’ We say nothing. She shouts: ‘Do you understand, sons of a bitch?’ We say nothing. She says: ‘Maybe you’re afraid of the autopsy, you little brats? There won’t be an autopsy. Nobody’s going to make a fuss when an old woman dies after a second attack.’
Page 165
‘That isn’t all. When I have a new attack, I want you to know that I don’t want your bath, your knickers, or your nappies.’ She gets up and rummages around on the shelf among her bottles. She comes back with a small blue bottle: ‘Instead of all your filthy medicines, you’ll pour the contents of this bottle into my first cup of milk.’ We say nothing. She shouts: ‘Do you understand, sons of a bitch?’ We say nothing. She says: ‘Maybe you’re afraid of the autopsy, you little brats? There won’t be an autopsy. Nobody’s going to make a fuss when an old woman dies after a second attack.’
Page 165
Euthanasia
Page 165
‘You don’t know what it’s like to be paralysed. To see everything, hear everything and not be able to move. If you aren’t even capable of doing this simple little thing for me, then you’re ungrateful brats, vipers I have nursed in my bosom.’
Page 168
Father says: ‘What’s that? That thing on her?’ We say: ‘It’s a baby. Our little sister.’ Grandmother says: ‘I did tell you to leave the dead in peace. Come and wash your hands in the kitchen.’
Page 172
‘No. It’s a matter of luck. The mines are arranged in zigzags, in Ws. If you walk in a straight line, you run the risk of walking on only one mine. If you take big steps, one has more or less a one in seven chance of avoiding it.’
Page 174
‘We, too, have to see, Father. Only stupid people try to cross the frontier at night. At night there are four times as many patrols and the area is continually swept by searchlights. On the other hand, the surveillance is relaxed around eleven in the morning. The frontier guards think that nobody would be crazy enough to get through at that time.’
Page 174
‘You mustn’t be identified. If anything happens to you and they learn that you are our father, we’ll be accused of complicity.’
Page 174
We search his clothes. We take his papers, his identity card, his address book, a train ticket, bills and a photograph of Mother. We burn everything in the kitchen stove, except the photograph.
Page 175
There is an explosion. We run to the barbed wire with the other two planks and the sack. Father is lying near the second fence. Yes, there is a way of crossing the frontier: it’s to get someone else to go first. Picking up the sack, walking in Father’s footprints, then over his inert body, one of us goes into the other country. The other one goes back to Grandmother’s house.