Interesting Surveys on Afghanistan Opium from UNODC

The United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) is a United Nations office that was established in 1997 as the Office for Drug Control and Crime Prevention by combining the United Nations International Drug Control Program (UNDCP) and the Crime Prevention and Criminal Justice Division in the United Nations Office at Vienna. It is a member of the United Nations Development Group and was renamed the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime in 2002.

UNODC was established to assist the UN in better addressing a coordinated, comprehensive response to the interrelated issues of illicit trafficking in and abuse of drugs, crime prevention and criminal justice, international terrorism, and political corruption. These goals are pursued through three primary functions: research, guidance and support to governments in the adoption and implementation of various crime-, drug-, terrorism-, and corruption-related conventions, treaties and protocols, as well as technical/financial assistance to said governments to face their respective situations and challenges in these fields.

These are the main themes that UNODC deals with: Alternative Development, Corruption, Criminal Justice, Prison Reform and Crime Prevention, Drug Prevention, -Treatment and Care, HIV and AIDS, Human Trafficking and Migrant Smuggling, Money Laundering, Organized Crime, Piracy, Terrorism Prevention.


Afghanistan’s Opium Child Brides

As the heroin trade suffers in Afghanistan, poppy farmers are marrying off their daughters, sometimes to unsavory and far-away men, to pay their debts.

Afghan children at school/Reuters

She was a 12-year-old girl, with fiery green eyes and defiance on her face. Her father had promised her hand to a stranger from Helmand province who didn’t speak her language, was more than 30 years her senior, and already had eight children. Her father had borrowed the man’s money for his poppy venture. And now it was up to her to repay that debt.

Darya, as she was called in a new book by Fariba Nawa, Opium Nation: Child Brides, Drug Lords, and One Woman’s Journey Through Afghanistan, represents a growing trend in Afghanistan, a trend in which families marry off their daughters to settle debts originating from the opium trade. “Opium brides,” they called them.

Nawa, an Afghan-American journalist, spoke on January 10 at the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars on the impact Afghan’s opium economy has on girls like Darya. Nawa met the girl when she traveled to Afghanistan in the early 2000s. She witnessed a town deluged with opium addicts and countless widows whose husbands and sons had died while smuggling drugs across borders. But nothing shook her like Darya. It was the child bride who opened up to her, talked to her as if she was a savior, while others around her hid behind their fear. Darya’s narrative, as well as stories of those like her, make perhaps the most heartbreaking aspect of the opium trade.

“What’s the saddest part? What’s the most interesting part of this story to you?” she had asked her guide before she met the girl. “It’s the opium brides,” her guide had answered. And when Nawa asked him to introduce her to one, he responded, “Oh, which one? There are so many of them.”

Child marriage exists throughout the world. Even if the number has decreased globally over the past 30 years, 64 million women ages 20 to 24 still marry or enter a union before they turn 18, according to a UNICEF estimate. In Afghanistan, that would be about 378,000 women. Although Kabul has passed a law to curb the practice, raising marriageable ages to 18 for males and 16 for females, more than 60 percent of marriages in Afghanistan involve girls below the legal age.

Marrying girls at a young age is nothing new to Afghanistan. For centuries, marriages have been used to settle debts and improve a family’s financial condition. Many poor households see their daughters as an economic burden and would rather send them off quickly to their husbands. They have also treated women and girls as a means to settle monetary disputes, making them “loan brides” in exchange for debt relief. “But those marriages are within family,” Nawa said. Cousins would marry. Two brothers would betroth their son and daughter to each other. But not many would promise their daughters to strangers from a completely different town, men with wives and families, who smuggle drugs and don’t speak their language. “It has been done in the past,” Nawa said. “But the level and how many are being done is unprecedented inside Afghanistan right now.”

Nawa attributed that spike to the opium trade, Afghanistan’s biggest industry. Despite the 65 percent increase in eradication in 2011, the country still managed to roll out a growth of seven percent in net poppy cultivation. As a result, opium production in Afghanistan has exceeded global demand for the past several years. A sharp production decline in 2010 barely hurt the world’s supply; there was no major shortage of heroin — a derivative of opium poppy — reported from the consumer markets. The country is now the center of global heroin manufacture, with roughly 300 to 500 operating laboratories producing about 380 to 400 tons of heroin per year.

The Taliban regime relied on opium production for revenues. It legalized the farming, trafficking and processing of the illicit crop. Its agricultural program consisted of flying experienced poppy farmers all over Afghanistan to teach people the techniques of opium cultivation.

It didn’t take much to convince Afghans to embrace poppy. Decades of war have destroyed their traditional orchards. Cyclical drought and poverty hinder Afghan farmers from growing high-profit fruit and saffron, which require an investment in irrigation systems. In the end, it was the poppy that met all the prerequisites: higher yield with less land, little irrigation, and greater profits. With the price high and rising — 2011 gross income from opium per hectare has skyrocketed 118 percent from the year before — it would take a lot more than free alternative crop seeds and fertilizer distribution to wean Afghan farmers off opium production.

Poppy seeds and fertilizer also cost money, but start-up farmers are willing to approach traffickers, asking to borrow money with a promise to repay with kilos of opium at harvest time. They know opium is much more promising than wheat. As eradication efforts ramp up, however, farmers who don’t have enough to bribe officials end up watching their lucrative crop ripped up and flattened. Gone with it is their hope for a better future — and, sometimes, their daughters.

“This is a business deal, essentially,” Nawa said. “This has become a more common practice because of the opium trade, because this society has disintegrated and family is being interrupted.”

Poppy farmers who give their daughters in marriage to lenders receive quittance — and sometimes a cash dowry that can be used to start a new life. Even so, such opportunity offers little consolation to those who have chosen that path; loan brides are considered a shame to the culture. “The fathers who sell their daughters to settle their opium debts are ashamed of what they’re doing,” Nawa said. “It is not something that is accepted or normal.”

There are no statistics on how many girls have been traded as a result of the opium trade. Data collection isn’t the norm in Afghanistan–not even for birth records. And when these marriages are performed without being registered with the state or religious authorities, statistics are likely to be clouded by severe inconsistencies; the real number of girls entering marriage before 18 could be much higher.

Despite the shame and heartache the opium trade has brought Afghan families, poppy cultivation is proven increasingly resilient. For a country that’s ranked almost at the bottom of the Human Development Index, growing opium poppy can be a real opportunity. Stories of those who have improved their lives through the illicit crop continue to be a source of inspiration. There are farmers who grow rich and reinvest the opium money to rebuild their communities. There are women who enjoy the ability to work; cultivating and processing opium are done within a compound, thus available to women under the Taliban regime. This gives women a chance to become an integral part of the society.

Still, many farmers want to stop growing poppy, but they won’t until they can establish other sources of income.

And it’s possible. Nawa has seen it: a woman who was able to quit opium cultivation once she had provided alternative sources of income for her family.

Poppy had given her the money to buy her son a car that he turned into a taxi. She also bought her daughter a carpet frame that turned into another source of revenue. “I think women who do grow poppy are very willing to stop growing poppy if they’re able to invest in other businesses,” Nawa said.

But such cases are rare. The source of strength in Afghanistan–the Afghan family–has been weakened by the drug trade, war and violence, according to Nawa. Families are broken. People are drowned in a never-ending cycle of poverty. Corruption has sucked away most aid money that could have pulled Afghanistan out of the heroin assembly line, she said.

The country, it seems, has become a network of spider webs that torture the innocent lives as much as the wrongdoers. And girls like Darya are a part of this web, though not intentionally. After many kind attempts to convince her to go with him — each met with Darya’s firm rejection — the Helmand smuggler finally took her away, marrying the girl before she even reached puberty.

“There are many sad stories,” Nawa said. Despite much tragedy she has witnessed while documenting how the drug trade has impacted women, she sees a glimmer of hope. “One thing that you will know, or you will see among the characters is the resilience and their ability to just pick up and keep living. And I think that’s where the hope is for women.”

This story was reported by the Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting, an Atlantic partner site.

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The Truth About Opium Brides

What Afghanistan’s Heroin Industry Is Costing Women

Afghan women working in a poppy field. (Courtesy Reuters)

In the dusty village of Ghurian on Afghanistan’s arid western border, Touraj* had made his life as a shepherd, but in the late 1990s, when a drought brought that livelihood to an end, he became a middleman in the country’s lucrative drug business. Touraj’s primary job was to hire couriers to carry drugs across the border into Iran. At first, the risk paid off — he was able to build a two-story house and buy gold jewelry for his wife. For himself, he purchased a motorcycle and a Rado watch. Feeling flush, he even took a girl from the city on as a second wife.

But more recently, after a few deals went bad, Touraj fell into $10,000 worth of debt to smugglers from Helmand Province, the frontline of the NATO counterinsurgency campaign. He was jailed. To buy back his freedom and save the rest of his family, he would sell two of his daughters.

He bartered Darya, 12, and her 14-year-old sister, Saboora, as brides to opium smugglers. The girls were wed without their consent in Helmand — Touraj and the smugglers performed the Islamic nikah ceremony, which pronounces a man and woman as husband and wife. As it turned out, Saboora escaped her newfound fate: Her husband never showed up to collect. He was presumably killed while on his way; Saboora remained with her family.

Darya’s husband, however, did turn up to claim his new bride. Haji Tor was 34 years her elder and had another wife and eight children. He spoke Pashto; she only spoke Dari. For two years, Darya refused to go with him. He was lenient enough to let her stay with her family, although he routinely visited to try to convince her to come with him to Helmand. In 2003, I was in the village researching my book Opium Nation, and after I met Darya, she pleaded for me to somehow free her.

Over the last ten years, such stories have become increasingly common in Afghanistan, as bartering girls into marriage to pay off opium debts has become more prevalent. Farmers, middlemen in the drug trade, drug couriers, and even some drug lords themselves sell their daughters to more powerful traffickers and smugglers. The women are worth thousands of dollars, a sizeable sum in a country where the average monthly income for a civil servant is $70. Some women who are sold into the drug trade have not reached puberty; many are sold to men three to four decades their senior. In fact, the younger the wife, the more she raises the status of the man — showing off his wealth and virility.

If a girl refuses to join the new husband, her entire family can become a target. Indeed, traffickers are infamous for their threats to collect their debts, whether it be kidnapping the girls, burning down family homes, or killing whole families in revenge.

The trade in opium brides has long existed in Afghanistan. But with the poppy trade now accounting for more than half of the country’s economy, thousands more girls each year are likely becoming victims. Reliable statistics are hard to come by, but girls in villages bordering neighboring countries suffer the most. In one Kandahar village, I was told an entire block of homes included opium brides as second and third wives. Just about the only employment in these areas is in the narcotics industry — for income, some families have uprooted their courtyard rose beds to plant poppies. Nearly 500,000 farming families, about 20 percent of Afghans, survive on poppy farms.

I reported Darya’s case to the Afghan Independent Human Rights Commission, which informed me that it could do nothing to help one girl out of thousands. Under Afghan law, Sunni girls cannot be married until they are 16. There is more leeway for Shiites to marry younger. A year after I left, Darya’s family convinced her to go with her husband. Just a few months later, however, Darya’s mother asked me to travel south toward Helmand and find her daughter. Darya had threatened to burn herself to death — an increasingly common form of protest among Afghan girls trying to escape their misery. From January to September 2011, a doctor in Herat Hospital reported 50 cases of self-inflicted burns.

It helps to understand how the drug trade works in Afghanistan today. In early to mid-summer, families harvest their crop. By scoring the milky juice from poppy pods and storing them overnight, they turn the poppies into opium. Two-thirds of that opium is then refined into heroin. Before 2001, the refining process, which involves cooking various chemicals with the opium and water, used to take place largely in Pakistan, Turkey, and other Gulf kingdoms.

In 2000, the Taliban outlawed production to raise opium prices and try to gain international recognition, but they still encouraged processing and trafficking. The Pakistani government raided the labs on its border, and lab workers moved across the mountain passes to Afghanistan. Heroin reaps ten times more profits than opium. Due to the international community’s neglect of the drug trade after 2001, the accessibility of precursor chemicals, and the insurgency’s reliance on the drug trade to fight its war, secret laboratories within Afghanistan are increasingly able to turn opium into heroin. Lower-grade, small-quantity heroin can be produced in home kitchens, while the finest China White, as it’s known, is mass-produced inside elaborate labs nestled in mountain caves.

The Afghan heroin industry churns out 380 to 400 tons of heroin a year, an amount that exceeds global demand, according to the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime. Counternarcotic agents are often tipped off to lab locations, but usually by the time they arrive, chemists and lab workers have already escaped. Double agents in the Afghan government abound: They tell the lab workers first, then the agents, who respond by blowing up the labs with no drugs or people inside.

The opium and heroin industry is worth $65 billion per year worldwide. Afghanistan gets about $4 billion of the take, most of which flows into the pockets of the trafficking mafias, drug kingpins, and corrupt government officials who provide protection. Farmers, who usually turn to planting poppy out of desperation, receive only 20 percent of the profits and are the most vulnerable to debt. Under an antiquated loan system called salaam, local smugglers lend farmers the poppy seeds for their first crop. If the farmers’ harvest is plentiful, they repay the loan and continue to plant. If the land does not yield the desired amount, or if opium prices dwindle, the farmer will have no way to repay the smuggler and falls deeper into debt. It is possible to get out of poppy farming only once the farmer has produced enough to sustain his livelihood and pay off the loan.

More than half of Afghanistan’s heroin is transported through Iran, because it is the quickest route to Europe. Middlemen and couriers crossing borders are likely to end up in debt as well, as hauls are captured by authorities or lost in firefights en route. Smugglers, who are constantly competing for turf, battle one another with advanced weapons and fast-moving vehicles. The arms-for-drugs racket is prevalent — instead of money, drug dealers may accept a machine gun on the black market for a kilo of heroin. Entering the narcotics industry is a high-risk business, and young girls — and sometimes boys — are its most innocent victims.

While in search of Darya, evidence abounded of a huge trade network of cash, drugs, and daughters between Afghanistan’s west and south. The international community has spent billions of dollars trying to find a solution to Afghanistan’s poppy problem. It has attempted to eradicate farms, find alternative livelihoods for farmers, and train elite counternarcotic forces. These efforts have yielded some success. Today, fewer provinces are cultivating poppy than in 2007, when a record 8,000 tons of opium were produced.

But a sustainable solution is elusive. Eradication of poorer farmers’ crops only propels the sale of more girls. Fathers end up in debt when their harvest is destroyed. Farmers endure daily harassment by drug dealers if they are still in debt. Even after they settle their debts by selling their girls, they will continue to plant poppy for lack of a more profitable crop. Most small landowners divide their land in three plots, planting poppy in one and wheat for subsistence in another, while leaving one plot fallow to rejuvenate the soil.

It will take decades to wean Afghanistan off opium for good. In the meantime, the international community should do much more to protect young girls from becoming casualties. In a documentary film on opium brides released by “Frontline” in January, a young girl who had been sold to traffickers sought protection in a women’s shelter. Today, there are about 14 women’s shelters in Afghanistan serving abused Afghan women and girls. The number seems small, but it is still progress. The location of these shelters is secret. They give girls an option to save themselves from drug traffickers, even though their families will remain in danger. Investment in such projects would go a long way.

In addition, provincial governors and local leaders need to be held responsible for enforcing Afghanistan’s laws on coerced and early marriage. More education and awareness about human rights among Afghans is vital. And any donor country invested in fighting the drug trade, including the United States and Britain, should partner with local organizations to help farmers repay debts and discourage the sale of girls.

Darya’s fate is still unknown. The sale of girls like her — the tens of thousands of them — is not just the crime of underage or forced marriage. It is human trafficking, slavery, and a gross injustice that will continue to bring shame on those who choose to ignore it.

Matthew DuPee, a security and drug research specialist at the Naval Postgraduate School, contributed to this article.

* Some of the names have been changed to protect the lives of the individuals.

Courtesy of

Afghanistan’s Billion Dollar Drug War

Afghan authorities are struggling to control the resurgence in poppy farming that feeds the habits of addicts worldwide.

It is the frontline of the war on drugs – and it is a battle authorities are losing.

Afghanistan’s poppy fields, which feed the habits of drug addicts worldwide, are thriving, with cultivation of the crop hitting record highs last year.

With NATO troops pulling out and local law enforcement agencies ill-equipped and underfunded, production looks set to increase even further.

The number of Afghan addicts is soaring, and with the Taliban funded by the drug trade, security fears are paramount.

101 East travels to Afghanistan’s poppy fields to investigate how Afghan authorities are struggling to control the resurgence in poppy farming, the implications for the global war on drugs, and what the future holds for this fragile nation.

The Victorians who flew as high as jumbo jets

The dead pigeons should have been James Glaisher’s warning. On 5 September 1862, the scientist was taking one of his first balloon flights – and alongside the compass, thermometers and bottles of brandy, he had decided to bring along six birds.

“One was thrown out at the height of three miles,” he later wrote. “When it extended its wings it dropped like a piece of paper; the second, at four miles, flew vigorously round and round, apparently taking a dip each time; a third was thrown out between four and five miles, and it fell downwards as a stone.”

No sooner had he noted these observations than he began to feel the “balloon sickness” himself. His arm had been resting on the table, but it failed to respond when he tried to lift it. Alarmed, he tried to call out to his aeronaut, Henry Coxwell, but the words froze in his mouth and his head lolled helplessly to one side.

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Glaisher knew the end was nigh. “In an instance darkness overcame me… I believed I would experience nothing more as death would come unless we speedily descended.”

Amazingly, both Coxwell and Glaisher survived thanks to some last-minute luck – but had they not they would have drifted to their deaths at the edge of the Earth’s atmosphere. Their plight is one of the great daredevil stories in the history of aviation – and perhaps even a glimpse into the future of space travel.

The aerial ocean

Glaisher had first set his sights skyward as he surveyed Ireland, mapping the contours of its highest peaks. “I was often compelled to remain sometimes for long periods, above or enveloped in cloud,” he wrote. “I was thus led to study the colours of the sky, the delicate tints of the clouds, the motion of opaque masses, the forms of the crystals of snow.”  His interest only peaked as he moved to the great observatories of Cambridge and Greenwich. “Often when a barrier of cloud has suddenly concealed the stars from view, I have wished to know the cause of their rapid formation and the processes in action around them.”

(Credit: Science Photo Library)

When Glaisher released his pigeons from the basket, they “fell downwards as a stone” (Credit: Science Photo Library)

Ballooning had progressed somewhat since “Les Freres Roberts” tried to guide their balloon flights with oars and umbrellas at the end of the 18th Century, and ballooning was now of increasing interest to scientists like Glaisher. In contrast to today’s hot air balloons, their vehicles were filled with a light gas, like hydrogen, allowing the aeronauts to rise “with the ease of an ascending vapour … carried by the imprisoned gas”, as Glaisher put it.

To rise, they would have thrown sand out of the basket, and to descend they opened a valve to let some of the gas out of the balloon. Once they were close enough to Earth, they would then release an anchor “that would hook into a tree or hedges and stop them being dragged along the ground”, says John Baker, the archivist at the British Balloon Museum and Library. Whereas others had always kept within view of the ground below, however, Glaisher wanted to reach higher, to explore the “aerial ocean”, which offered a “boundless sea of inquiry”.

Persuading the British Association for the Advancement of Science to fund his trips, Glaisher teamed up with the expert balloonist Henry Coxwell to take these voyages into the unknown. Their quest was quintessentially British – to understand the atmospheric forces governing the weather down on Earth. “He spent lots of time manufacturing suitable apparatus,” says Baker.

After some initial hiccups, the pair took their first flight on 17 July 1862, taking off from Wolverhampton at 9:43 in the morning. Within 12 minutes they had passed through the clouds. Under the heat of the sun, the balloon – an enormous construction containing 90,000 cubic feet (2,500 cubic metres) of gas – filled out to assume an almost perfect sphere. The sky, he noted, had turned a “deep Prussian blue”.

(Credit: Science Photo Library)

Glaisher and Coxwell aimed to study the mysterious atmospheric forces governing the weather (Credit: Science Photo Library)

With cheap and accessible air travel today, it is easy to forget the romance of travelling thousands of feet above the ground. In 1862, however, Glaisher was among a small handful of people who had seen the world this way, and his lyrical descriptions help us to see those sights with fresh eyes. He describes the “supreme beauty” of the clouds “presenting at times mountain scenes of endless variety and grandeur”. The shadow of the balloon on the clouds below was “surrounded by a kind of corona tinted with prismatic colours”.

The illuminated dials of Westminster clock were like two dull moons

His later flights departed from Crystal Palace in London, offering a unique view of the British capital. “The illuminated dials of Westminster clock were like two dull moons,” he wrote, while Commercial Road “appeared like a line of brilliant fire”. The closest comparison, he thought, was the Milky Way on a clear dark night. “The field of view appeared covered with gold-dust, to be possessed of the power to see those minute spots of light as brilliant stars.”

The feted flight on the 5 September (again from Wolverhampton) began sanguinely enough. “A flood of strong sunlight burst upon us with a beautiful blue sky without a cloud, and beneath us lay a magnificent sea of clouds, its surface varied with endless hills, hillocks, and mountain chains, and with many snow-white tufts rising from it.”

While Coxwell was dangerously clambering among the rigging, Glaisher was slowly losing consciousness

As they rose beyond five miles, however, the temperature dropped below -20C, and he began to notice difficulties with his vision. “I could not see the fine column of the mercury in the wet-bulb thermometer; nor the hands of the watch, nor the fine divisions on any instrument.” Clearly, they needed to descend – yet the balloon’s valve-line had become entangled in the other ropes. Coxwell had to climb out of the basket to release it, but while he was dangerously clambering among the rigging, Glaisher was slowly losing consciousness.

(Credit: Alamy)

Glaisher, to the right, has fainted, while Coxwell climbs onto the ring and grabs the valve-line in his teeth (Credit: Alamy)

Up on the ring, Coxwell felt that he too was losing control of his limbs. Realising that his life was at risk, he grabbed hold of the valve-line with his teeth and yanked his head several times. To his immense relief, it opened and they began their descent.

Glaisher awoke to hear Coxwell muttering vaguely above him. “I have been insensible,” he said – but wasted no time in returning to his experiments. “I then drew up my legs and took a pencil to begin observations,” he recorded in the book Travels in the Air. Of the pigeons, only one remained with them by the time they had reached the ground. It seemed so traumatised by the experience that it clung to Glaisher’s hand for 15 minutes before taking flight.

The pair estimated that they had risen to 37,000 feet – 7 miles (11km) – the highest altitude that a manned flight had reached at that point.

Neither Glaisher nor Coxwell could have fully understood the cause of their “balloon illness”. The cold, and the lack of oxygen will have certainly contributed, but a recent paper in Neurology journal suggests they may also have been suffering the “bends” that divers experience if they rise too quickly; thanks to falling pressure during the rapid ascent, gases like nitrogen and oxygen are released in the blood, forming bubbles in the neural tissue. The result is nausea, paralysis and loss of consciousness.

Glaisher reported, somewhat stoically, that he had been unscathed by the incident. “No inconvenience followed my insensibility.” He went on to make another 21 flights, recording observations that were crucial for our understanding of weather – discovering, for instance, the way raindrops form and gather moisture as they hurtle towards Earth, and noting that the winds change speed as you rise or fall through the atmosphere. “On one flight they took off with no wind on the surface, but flew 120 miles (190km), which proved that the wind was different at different altitudes,” says Baker.

(Credit: Getty Images)

Glaisher continued to be inspired by teams across the Channel, including balloonists who flew above the clouds to watch the Leonid meteor shower (Credit: Getty Images)

Today, these kinds of measurements are made in unmanned, meteorological balloons – although some daredevils are still using balloons for equally intrepid journeys. Felix Baumgartner, for instance, rose 24 miles (39km) in a helium balloon for his famous “skydive” from space – and according to some, ballooning may even become the preferred means of space tourism. Advised by Nasa astronaut Michael Lopez-Alegria, the Spanish company Zero2Infinity plans to use a massive helium balloon to float into near-space, reaching around 21 miles (34km) above the Earth – a point beyond 99% of the atmosphere.

Although this is nowhere near the altitudes planned by the likes of Virgin Galactic, it should be far enough to view the serene orb of the Earth curving below you, surrounded by blackness – the source of the profoundly moving “overview effect” that so many astronauts have described. The advantage is that a balloon journey should be much more serene than a ride on a rocket-powered spaceplane.

Glaisher (who now has a crater on the Moon named in his honour) would surely approve. “We seem to be citizens of the sky, separated from the Earth by a barrier which seems impassable,” he wrote of his ballooning experiences. “In the upper world, to which we seem now to belong, the silence and quiet are so intense that peace and calm seem to reign alone.”

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