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| The writer at Khunjerab Pass, Pakistan. |
It’s the second week of November. There is a tremendous silence around me; snowflakes fall gently from the sky. The day is so white — there’s no color in sight save for my red jeep and gray jacket, all other colors have become invisible under the thick snow.
There is neither a military check post, nor any signs of civilian settlement here. This is the Pak-China border, and I am standing at the Khunjerab Pass, with my face towards Pakistan’s brother, China.
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