War and peace.

Vague memories of the perfumed parties, the young ladies in clean dresses, patisses and hypocretical intelectuals all so superficial, smooth, pleasant. The contrast with the reality of hard improvised bed, the putrified essence of cadavers, susurrous of open sores, flys and the wet murmous of restless parasites. Ernesto in the corner, resting his elbows on his knees.