********
I blink tears from my eyes and shake myself from my solemn stupor. The poor, dying donkey is
before me, swimming slowly back into focus. I reach to put my hand on his head as his struggles
grow weaker. He too is dying.
So like dear Ditha, I whisper, and immediately regret my words. No! Allah Ditha was a man.
Would God allow that we could all be such a man?
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