ABSTRACT
On the way down, a woman of about forty was dead, her mouth, like a wolf’s, torn from ear to ear and both eyeballs blown out. It hardly looked like a human face. When the author went down to the second floor, she saw several more such people. Her feet refusing to move, she stopped and looked down at the courtyard from a second floor window. In the courtyard below, thick yellow smoke was hanging at human height, and above it was a mass of jet black smoke. From the public hall next door a rather thin stream of smoke was approaching. When she saw this, for the first time she felt that some new weapon might have been used. Their voices were sad screams that resembled sobbing, in an indescribably pitiful, disagreeable tone. The moment someone diverged, the odd Bon dance circle went out of shape in that direction.
