The day had been hot and sultry. Alarming rumors were spreading, rumors of war, because of that Austrian Archduke assassinated along with his wife a month earlier.
I don’t give a shit about the Archduke, about The Austria-Hungarian Empire and Serbia! And when I think of it, where in the hell is Sarajevo?
People are afraid of everything…It’s about time to down a Picon-beer at the Grand Café where the arms sellers hang out, have to live it up when you can!
And then, there at the corner, a crowd hunched down at the bottom of a wall: the people were calm, talking among each other, their faces as white as the poster, dripping glue, tacked up at the level of their anxious eyes.
The day was the 2nd of August 1914. In short time the world was going to come crashing down around me.