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© Steven Schroeder
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I come to China to learn to walk away. Gray kitten on a branch beyond my reach cries, and I cannot coax him down. He knows there is nothing I can do, so I walk on, and he falls silent. I'd like to think he found some comfort in my voice responding to his cry, but he is still treed, and I have done nothing. The world is no less dangerous for my words. He will tell his story, put his feet on the ground when he sees the time is right.
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