Book of War, Mortification and Love begins:
Behind the terraced house, where we live, lies a slope. I sometimes walk there in the evening. It is a place to retreat in thoughts, with nothing but the sound of trains over the nearby tracks. From this slope the back of the houses down below catches my eye, the row where our house lies. At most houses, garden decorations prevent you from looking inside. But some of them offer fragments of life. It is a strange sight: mankind in an evening light, cast within the frame of a window.