Strabo is so tiny he stumbles when a prisoner takes his hand, but he persists, and soon the prisoner is up, and Strabo, grinning proudly, walks the fella over towards the wheelbarrow, and from a certain angle, you could be forgiven for thinking you were just seeing a man with his son, and something in the way the Athenians take the boys’ hands and the way the kids’ expressions change makes me wonder if, unbeknownst to them, that’s what these poor bastards are doing, performing fatherhood and childhood for each other, ’cause surely a lot of these men have kids back home that they’ll never see
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