They went through the pockets and took the papers of the people they shot. They would not have my papers. They might call me drowned. I wondered what they would hear in the States. Dead from wounds and other causes. Good Christ I was hungry.
Pablo Picasso, Man with Pipe (L’homme à la pipe),
Paris, May 1923,
Oil, pencil, and india ink on canvas, 130 x 97 cm,
Private collection, Courtesy Fundación Almine y Bernard Ruiz-Picasso para el Arte,
© 2012 Estate of Pablo Picasso/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York,
Photo: Eric Baudouin
If you are going to shoot me,” the lieutenant-colonel said, “please shoot me at once without further questioning. The questioning is stupid.” He made the sign of the cross. The officers spoke together.
I never discuss a Saint after dark,” I said. The priest looked up from the stew and smiled at me.