From the Sorrow of War by Bao Ninh
Howls from somewhere in the deep jungle echo along the cold edges of the Jungle of the Screaming Souls. Lonely, wandering noises. Whose soul is calling whom this night?
To one who has just returned the mountains still look the same. The forest looks the same. The stream and the river also look the same. One year is not a long time. No, it is the war that is the difference. Then it was war, now it is peace. Two different ages, two worlds, yet written on the same page of life. That's the difference.
From the novel Sorrow of War by Bao Ninh