In the mud again and I am/am watching a young soldier. He crawls out from undersomething, some low building onto the grass and feels an exquisite fear. He thinks about his strong helmet, his tough crewcut and piercing blue eyes and that they are his protection against fear.

Later we are on a fast train bound for Paris. From the window we see Montmartre down below. We don’t get off here as I say there is a stop closer to the city centre but almost immediately we are in the country again, seeing beautiful fields passing by. We are wondering what happened to Paris and how easily we can get back there.