Then the war started, so suddenly that only the children could understand it. The father was called away one night and Halid, following some inner command, went to lie by his mother to console her. His mother squeezed him so tight it almost made him cry. He stopped the tears at the last moment. The place in which his father had slept until only a while ago was as hot as an iron. It was difficult for him to accept the image of his mother, which he could understand only as a pair with that of his father. He was used to watching them even when they made love. He would watch until his mother would say in a strange voice – It’s enough. When she jumped up to chase him away, the shaggy hair on her would gleam and her breasts would swing like two heavy, silent bells. Halid would run away, not out of fear, but wishing to get going and run around. Later on, they would call him in small, artificial voices as if calling after a puppy.