It didn’t matter how often Leonard explained that opium was the only way he knew to dull the nightly terrors: the cold, wet trenches, the smell and the noise, the ear-shattering explosions that pulled at a man’s skull as he watched, helpless, while his friends, his brother, ran through the smoke and mud towards their end. If the woman from the painting pushed Tom out of the way at night . . . well, where was the harm in that?
I thought this was very insightful about PTSD and drug use.
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