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How could someone possibly know you like this? Some stranger, some author, some character. It’s like they’re seeing inside your soul. This book existed inside some book store, on a shelf, maybe handled by other people and really it was just waiting for you pick it up and crack the spine. It was waiting to speak toyou. To say, “You are not alone.”
怎会有人知道你喜欢它呢?某个陌生人、作者,抑或书中的某个角色。他们似乎能看透你的心思。这本书,它陈列在某隅书店的书架上、它经人辗转,真的就像是在等你捧起翻阅,等着向你低语:“我会伴你左右。” |
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