My family survived a terrible Civil War in Greece just before I was born.

Not in some Hollywood movie, with combatants issuing their pithy sayings, those bad fantasy hombres with just the right length of chin stubble as they squint through the sights, but a civil war in real life, with real blood and real bone, where people who knew each other and had histories together and murdered each other.

They grabbed each other by the hair and shot them, screaming, throwing bodies in a ditch. Or on the side of a hill. In the shadow of a building. In a quiet alley off a church square. A water reservoir with other human beings floating mute to the cruelties of men.

Anywhere. Everywhere.