"I lifted the lid and found a piece of bread and some water—and a rat that quickly darted off the tray. Talk about adding insult to injury."

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neither poems nor prose just a length of rope just the wet earth -- that's the way home. neither vodka nor bread just bursts of rage just more new graves -- that's youth and that's love. neither sleep nor waking neither joy nor laughter just tears in the night -- so the rope, paper, knife.

— Tadeusz Borowski