gave up sweets a few years ago.” “What?” There is no hiding my shock. Though the change is minor, it disappoints me that I was unaware. “Why?” “I was in Ethiopia for a photo shoot.” She says it offhandedly. “I had packed a box of real milk chocolates from London—the type you can’t find in the States.” Her face shows her yearning for them. “I had maybe fifty or so in my knapsack. When I was on location, a child came up to me. Three or four years old. Held out her hand for a piece of the chocolate. I gave her some and soon I was surrounded.” Clearly lost in her memory, she continues, “Some of
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