Ord blir fattige og fargeløse. Hva er det å si? Hva kan man si? I mangel på bedre ord, snur jeg meg derfor mot bøkenes verden, og lar Vonnegut snakke for meg.
“..there is nothing intelligent to say about a massacre. Everybody is supposed to be dead, to never say anything or want anything ever again. Everything is supposed to be very quiet after a massacre, and it always is, except for the birds. And what do the birds say? All there is to say about a massacre, things like ‘Poo-tee-weet?'”
Kurt Vonnegut – Slaughterhouse-Five