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The qù of her breathing.
“That’s how Sparrow was, he wanted to exist through music, too. When I was small, he played his hidden records only at night, never in the day. In the village where I grew up, the nighttime sky felt everlasting.”
“But, Ai-ming, how can music be illegal?” The idea seemed so absurd, I almost laughed.
“She would say, ‘Are you ready? This next story will last so long you’ll forget you were ever born.’
no trouble filling in the missing gaps.
what if the novel was written by someone
On the fifth floor of the factory,
