[post] War looks like empty shelves at the co-op when the fuel strikes...

War looks like empty shelves at the co-op when the fuel strikes block the trucks. War looks like another kid from the village joining the Chasseurs Alpins because the bakery or the farm won’t last another decade. I don’t care about Ukraine or Gaza the way they scream it on BFM, but I see war in the eyes of men my age who remember Algeria, who don’t talk about it, who drink their calvados quietly. War is when Paris sends soldiers to the suburbs but forgets to send the train inspector to keep the line open. War is your neighbour’s son in a coffin draped with a tricolore they didn’t send when he was alive. I knead dough. It’s honest. Everything else feels like hunger waiting to happen.