Gathered behind the wall, they wait with weapons in hand, with their hearts in their mouths. Men and women dressed alike in fustanellas and selachlikia, children with collars hanging on their bodies like votive offerings on icons, drugged by opium. As soon as the moon disappears behind the passing clouds, the captains' command is heard throughout the column like a muffled whisper. Fighters and women and children move for the great Exodus, silently passing through the gate. Some lean and kiss the wall pierced by countless bullets, others the earth dug up by bombs. They sprinkle and water them with their respectful tears.