It was all the more confusing because I had never felt so human in my whole life - both even when I was human, as far as I could recall. When I had been human, my thoughts had all been turned to a soldier's glory. The Great War had raged through most of my adolescence, and I'd been only nine months away from my eighteenth birthday when the influenza had struck... I had just vague impressions of those human years, murky memories that faded more with every passing decade. I remembered my mother most clearly, and felt an ancient ache when I thought of her face. I recalled dimly how much she hated the future I'd raced eagerly toward, praying every night when she said grace at dinner that the "horrid war" would end... I had no memories of another kind of yearning. Besides my mother's love, there was no other love that had made me wish to stay...


(For the full version of this chapter please follow-up to the Romanian translation)