The weapons they wear strain their nerves. And,suddenly,their blood is on fire, feathers almost fly off their flesh, and each cell of the body overflows with hatred. The war is only a moment away, and,when it arrives, to kill to be killed will be all the same. Evening descends on a sky smeared with blood. It's all over in a moment.
Darkness erases all the day's colours,the day's blood.
A day ends. Carrying a handful of meat that has lost its voice the crowd returns. The village is once again enclosed by silence breathing like an abandoned child. On the mythic enchantress's open navel fall the stars and the dew all through the night, silently. On the steps of the temple's pond, on the large shoulders of the wise Ganesa are washed the greasy patchwork garments of tradition and history.