The City of War

I have lived in war, feared in war, day after day, minute after minute-- that fear never ends, never subsides-- it becomes something like breathing: true, constant, ever present, relentless.... And when I took a brief holiday from the world of war and returned to the quiet world of peace, I was a little confused-- and surprised! For I saw people walking freely, talking lightly: it all seemed so strange, so alien to see a city without the fear that rides those caught like rats in war's domain---all seemed abnormal, obscene almost...then too the smiles and petty joys of a city of peace made me nervous... for somehow I could still hear the explosions rip and tear the air.... Only when I went back to the city of war was all once again known: I had to wear fear like a cloak, but I also felt more alive,--far, far more exuberantly alive than I had ever felt in the quiet city of peace....