Tonight we are eating real rice. Someone found a sack in a collapsed warehouse. I am crying again. But this time it’s different.” “The war isn’t over. But the Blocs are retreating. I saw their columns pulling back this morning. Lin climbed a water tower and waved a red scarf. No one shot at her.
Note to self: Speed is not survival. Timing is survival.” “I stole bread today. From an old woman’s cellar. She wasn’t there—maybe dead, maybe fled. I left three cans of beans in exchange, but that’s not the point. The point is: I have become someone who takes. a record of delia's war
I sat in a stairwell afterward and cried until I threw up. Then I ate a cold potato. Then I wrote this. Tonight we are eating real rice
I have not slept in three days. I have walked past two checkpoints wearing a dead woman’s coat. I am looking for her. But the city is a graveyard with a few breathing people in it. But this time it’s different
A Record of Delia’s War Subtitle: From the Ashes of the Western Front, 2171–2174 Author: Compiled by Archivist S. Corvin, from the private effects of Delia Rojas, civilian combat archivist. I. Foreword by the Archivist This record is not a hero’s memoir. It is not a general’s dispatch or a politician’s justification. It is the scribbled, stained, half-burned notebook of a woman who refused to stop writing even as her city was turned to rubble.