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 again, and I feel like I should look away, like I’ve caught an intimacy, and so I turn around and count the cheeses in the wheelbarrow.
