“Hmm,” he said.  “Lookie, Ma. I been all day an’ all night hidin’ alone.  Guess who I been thinkin’ about? Casy!  He talked a lot.  Used ta bother me. But now I been thinkin’ about what he said, an’ I can remember – all of it.
Says one time he went out in the wilderness to [...]

what tools have we made? are we capturing their best use? is there a duty to share them so that they might reach their full potential? or does our responsibility to pursue parity, or peace, diminish the further we are from a fallow field or a rifle’s report? if not, to whom do these tasks fall? our government? or to your sons and daughters? and in these questions, perhaps, the most interesting one to me: who are we, really, beneath our fancy clothes.

aweil is alive. she is the girl for whom i wrote my book, the one with tuberculosis who arrived to the hospital early in my mission, and stayed with me throughout it. i visited her every day, got to watch her change from a dwindling infant to a strong, smiling, laughing, grasping girl with bright eyes. the war came, after i’d left, and i lost her. she’s been found. or at least word has been. she is in a town in southern sudan, with her father. that news has made for the brightest February.