The bird shot gave Chinois his scars. Perched on a Moroccan mountain lit only by the full moon and orange glow from a tiny corner of Europe below, he pulls up a trouser leg to show the holes pockmarking his knee. The metal pellets he managed to dig out are kept in a grubby handkerchief in his pocket. The others remain buried in the young Cameroonian’s flesh, hobbling his walk.
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