The White Man's Burden
The heat of the Congo did not just burn; it consumed. It was a thick, oppressive weight that smelled of rotting vegetation and ancient, indifferent earth. Edward stood on the veranda of the colonial outpost, his white linen suit stained with a yellowed patina of sweat and dust. In his hand, he held a copy of Mill's "On Liberty," though the pages were curled and foxed by the humidity. Edward had...
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