'For my people.' Yes, that's what he says whenever questioned about it - and on some level it's true. But it isn't really about the people, is it? He knows, in his heart of hearts, that the one who had truly loved people in all their wild imperfection is not him. That person is long gone, and all they've left behind is someone who would do anything to see them again.

His grip on the canvas tightens briefly. Then he throws it aside and stands.

"If only I were so noble."

He starts walking away. His chest hurts. Why does it still hurt after everything that's happened? He wishes he could rip it out and throw it away like that discarded painting.