I’m not who you think I am. I’m an actor. Just like all of you. I’m improvising, shooting from the hip. It’s all a lie. I’m a lie. You’re a lie. The lights—they don’t lie. But when they shine, they only tell half the story.
~ Chris Dicroce
In the moments between bullets, those in foxholes regain their vision. They get to count the dead, feel for holes. Pain creeps through a sluice of calm.
