Jun 28, 2009-- "My mother had always feared domestic animals, but now as a plump neighborhood cat ran up our driveway, she gazed at the feline, and revealed that 70 years ago she had had a pet cat. Her 87-year-old eyes teared up. Her cat was white, she said, and so thin you could see its ribs. Still, she loved to cuddle it. It wasn't a house cat -- it couldn't have been, because she was imprisoned at the time, in a forced-labor camp the Nazis set up in Poland, the country where my mother was born and raised. Back then she was as emaciated as the cat, but still she shared her food with it. It gave her comfort she said, and it was a way of fighting back, to help this animal." So begins a thought-provoking New York Times article on the limits of control. (3917 reads)
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Your pain is my pain, My wealth is your wealth, Your salvation is my salvation.
African Expression of “Ubuntu”
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