Birthday Boy
Birthday Boy

Summary/Abstract: We were sitting at the table, each in our own little tank cockpit. Each one of us had his own defined and acknowledged territory on the map of the tablecloth. All three neighbours were air, as was the custom. We had sat down to eat, it was about having lunch, without getting in the way of the others or allowing them to get in ours. We all knew each other in a way, or put better, we were all similar, since we ate in the same canteen. Not a single face was unusual, and then you always sat down at a table with someone. The permutations were always changing, never being repeated. Two given people were hardly ever at the same table together.

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