lebensraum

Even when there aren’t any explosions going on, when you’re scanning a distant compound with your sniper rifle, trying to decide which soldier would be the best one to kill first, before every enemy in a two-mile radius deduces your exact position like a vodka-drinking sextant, everything from a certain distance disappears into this weird glowing haze, like the Russians are occupying the surface of Mercury — which is beyond even the most liberal interpretation of lebensraum.