It's dark again. So it's evening. It's the third evening. N I'm wrong. It's the fourth evening. It's Tuesday Wednesday Thursday. Yes, it's Thursday. Why do I count the days? Why do I say it's Thursday? There aren't any more days. There's just time. Time when it's dark, and time when it's light. Everything is dead so why not days, too? Yes. No more days. No more Thursdays. There's only now. And there's only me. Why? Why aren't I dead, too? That's a stupid question Jojo, I say to myself. You know why you aren't dead. You aren't dead because you weren't in the house. You were in the fields when the men came. But that's not my question. I want to know why I was in the fields. Why wasn't I in the house with my family? There are no answers to questions like that, Jojo, I tell myself. I have to talk to myself because there isn't anyone else. I think there are mice here. I can hear them at night. You can't talk to mice. But there aren't any other people, There's only me. Jojo. I know this because I listen. I listen all day and all night. I hide in our stable, where the horse lived. And hear nothing. Just the mice. The village is quiet. There is smoke now, but smoke is quiet. The fires were noisy, but the fires have stopped. It rained yesterday, and after the rain there were no more fires. Just smoke. a Qf course, I'm not the only thing alive here. As well as