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Cumulonimbus What I come to know is no man born a slave. Serving another, for life agreeing to be treated like cows an pigs an less be something a slave weigh every day after he look at his other choices, death an running. Slaving, ain't no picnic. We might look happy but us grin mostly to keeps from crying. Old York say it take something African to stand in the rain an smile while it storming all 'round. He say nobody choose to slave. Them choose to hold on to what little family them got. Them choose to be sure somebody still here to tell our side to tell the whole truth when it all said an done. What some calls lightning an thunder just be God trying to see what we choosing an us grumbling 'bout being slaves. ...

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