Waiting For The End
The Prussians have been in Paris for a while now, but I'm not going to do a damn thing about it.
There's gunfire everyday, most of the time I crawl around on my belly like a worm, which is what I am.
I should fight, I should get out there and defend my country, but for some reason I don't want to. It's not fear, nor cowardice.
It's something I can't work out.
Yesterday, while I was lying on the floor, reading, a burst of gunfire came in through the window, hit the
ceiling. Glass shattered, a piece of soft sandstone hit the floor. But even this doesn't make me want to get out there.
At night I smoke. Stare at the windows. Wait for the sun to come up. God alone knows why I don't get out
there. Get my freedom back. But I don't, and I won't.
So I just sit here, reading, waiting for it all to end.
First published: August 2005
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