Again I imagined another young man across the field who was motionless and showed no emotions. I came out of the trenches and approached him quietly. His withered look, his sunken eyes and protruding teeth gave him a 'deadly' and distinct appearance. I sort of expectantly motioned him to come closer to me and take a look at the imaginary picture I had in my hand. I said, 'here, take a look at the exchange of handshakes between the two leaders.
Peace is finally here.
I sensed anger in his voice and decided to distance myself from him. Alarmed, I found myself walking away from him as fast as I could, and yet I felt his cold stare and carrying voice following me back to the trenches. I stopped, turned around and there I saw him slide back into a hole and pull the rock unto himself. I thought for a while of the incident and then wondered whether there was any sense to talk to a 'dead' man. The imagined experience of our martyrs was so arduous I decided to return back to the other kind of reality.