WITHOUT YOU, THERE IS NO ME.

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WE'D SNEAK INTO YARDS AND STEAL FRUIT OFF TREES. SOMETIMES THE FARMER WOULD COME OUT TO CATCH US. AT OTHER TIMES, THEY WOULD PRETEND TO SLEEP.

ON THE NIGHTS WE SNEAKED AWAY AND RETURNED TO OUR BEDS, OUR FINGERS WOULD BE STAINED. RED—WITH THE GUILT OF OUR HUNGER.

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THEY GATHERED UP ALL THE SCHOLARS IN THE CENTER OF THE SQUARE AND CUT OFF THEIR TOPKNOTS.

SOME SAT FOR A WHILE AFTERWARDS. IN THEIR ARMS, THEIR BUNDLE OF HAIR. CRYING, FURIOUS, MOURNING. LIKE THEY HAD LOST FAMILY.

"WHEN YOU CUT THIS HAIR, IT CUTS CONNECTION. TO YOUR ANCESTERS, TO YOUR HERITAGE, TO YOUR CULTURE."

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