"We walked in that fragrant spring night, children urged on by other children, our hands over our heads. we stood in an open space somewhere, and the soldiers set up a machine gun on legs before us, and under the stars of that April midnight, I wondered dispassionately whether I would see the bullet that would kill me, as it flew closer and closer, as it sunk into my chest and onwards to my heart - but I did not think about the pain... Our life is a journey, a journey to the end of night..."