A gloomy look cast into the war council room returned the same view: among the drab tapestries of heartache and hopelessness sat he, staring blindly down at the city plan of Berlin, hardly shifting in the despair that had settled like a fine dust throughout the bunker. Exactly like the same fine dust that had worried its way into the
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*snorts derisively*
It's actually about Adolf's final days. I was watching a documentary on it (I've read about it before, though), and it hit me so hard. They threw in all this strong language and used the same old tired accusations of being an insane madman, meant to turn the viewer's heart against his, but I sat there and - believe it - wept over his desperate death. No one cares for him now that he's in the spirit world. That makes me so incredibly depressed.
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