Well You've Been Brought Here

And I Have Tried To Forget Him, I Have Tried To Convince Myself That It Was Just One Of Those Things, But It’s Difficult To Do That When My Body Is Standing Here, Eight Feet Deep In The Earth Of Northern France, While My Heart Remains By A Stream In A Clearing In England Where I Left It Weeks Ago.

He Suddenly Became Convinced That If He Didn’t Do Something Sensible, Something To Put His Mind To Some Use, Then Before He Knew It He Would Be Wondering Round The Streets Having Fights With Himself And Inviting Domestic Animals To Social Occasions Too.

. . .only The Victims And Survivors Can Truly Comprehend The Awfulness Of That Time And Place; The Rest Of Us Live On The Other Side Of The Fence, Staring Through From Our Own Comfortable Place, Trying In Our Own Clumsy Ways To Make Sense Of It All.

I Think I'm Just Breathing, That's All. And There's A Difference Between Breathing And Being Alive.

He Looked The Boy Up And Down As If He Had Never Seen A Child Before And Wasn't Quite Sure What He Was Supposed To Do With One: Eat It, Ignore It Or Kick It Down The Stairs.