Marianne says how awful that is saying, "They say 115 guerrillas, and it means nothing to us. But each one is a man, and we don't even know who he is, if he loves a woman, if he has kids, if he prefers movies or plays. We know nothing about them. All they say is '15 killed.' It's like photographs. They've always fascinated me. You see this frozen image of a guy with a caption underneath. Maybe he was a coward. Maybe he was a nice guy. But at the moment it was taken no one can really say who he was, what he was thinking about. His wife? His mistress? The past? The future? Basketball? No one will ever know. That's what makes me sad: Life is so different from books. I wish it were the same: clear, logical, organized. Only it isn't."