A man walks up to a tree inside a walled city. He lights incense for a makeshift memorial and begins to sing softly.
Leaves from the vineFalling so slowLike fragile tiny shellsDrifting in the foamLittle soldier boyCome marching homeBrave soldier boyComes marching home
As the song goes on, the tears flow harder and the sobbing gets louder. With every passing second, it becomes clearer why this means so much. His words, his actions; everything begins to fall into place. He’s learned from his mistakes and is trying to right his wrongs.
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