In the diary of her great-grandmother she read what happened on this very day, one hundred years ago. “10 October 1916. I heard him walk down the stairs at eleven o’clock this morning. He had coughed all night. I fear for his life. It is humid and cold. The day itself is grey and desolate. Soldiers group around little fires in the park.” Later that day she went to visit the apartment. She remembered the stairwell smelled of stale bread.