been the same for them as they were for me. I went upstairs to look out over the courtyard, and it seemed to me that the war was still here, everywhere, in the minds of the people who had lived through it and the ones who hadn’t, the children of those who had fought, the grandchildren of those who had stood by and done nothing, who could have done more. The war continued to influence our actions, our destinies, our friendships, our loves. All roads led us back to the war. Its deflagrations still resonated within us. It was here at Fénelon
