Longing. I want a victory like this to happen again. At the same time, I think about the huge sacrifices, that were necessary to get this far. The revolutionary in the picture stands alone. How many comrades were killed on the way to get there? Who is missing and can't share this moment? Feudalists murdered all those people to protect what? This empty, pointless luxury must feel painfully insulting to the memory of the fallen comrades. It can't bring them back. In this situation, I would feel like tearing it all down and burning it.
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