Come closer, my children, and listen. There’s something I must tell before my breath runs out and my voice fades into the wind. It’s the story of a tree, a tree our fathers once planted with hope and pride. That tree was meant to live only ten years. After that, it was to be cut down, so the land could rest and new life could grow. But when the ten years passed, the people looked upon it and said, “Ah, let it stand just five more. It still gives us peace.” And when those five years ended, they said it again. “Just five more.” But beneath the ground, the roots had already died, though the branches still bore fruit, sweet fruit that we called peace. The people ate it with joy. They said, “Surely, nothing this sweet can be bad.” They didn’t see that each bite blinded them. They didn’t see that while they feasted, the ground beneath them was dying. Years passed. Ten became twenty, twenty became forty. And by the time the truth was seen, the rot had spread everywhere: through our fr...