One passes the door, closes it behind one, steps into the outer world, looks back, and there is only before one's view a thick cold wall--the windows are dead, there is no sound, only bland, dull, expressionless space.

Moreover this dull wall, almost instantly, persuades one of the incredibility of what one has seen.

There were no beauties, there were no terrors....

Ordinary life closes round one, trivial things reassume their old importance, one disbelieves in fantastic dreams.
I believe that every one who has had experience of war will admit the truth of this.

I had myself already known something of the kind and had wondered at the fashion in which the crossing of a mere verst or two can bring the old life about one.