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" There are used condoms everywhere and no place to dispose of them, so I lift an edge of the mattress and kick them all under. The afternoon is passed in typical fashion – having been here two days, I already know what is typical. We smoke, we listen to Bob Marley, we smoke some more, and occasionally we talk. Mostly we talk about Bob Marley. We are on our third or fourth joint of the afternoon when one of the guys asks, ‘Do you know Bob Marley?’ ‘Bob Marley is dead,’ I tell him, although even as it comes out of my mouth, I’m thinking maybe he’s not. I think to myself, he is dead, isn’t he? Yeah, he’s dead for sure. "
― , Emergency Sex (And Other Desperate Measures): True Stories from a War Zone