There is a
fictional story going on in my mind and it goes like this:
Once upon a
time, there was a teenage girl with a room full of books. Her collection was
eclectic and she did nothing but read day in, day out. It was a living dream.
Then one
day, she went to the library and randomly, absent-mindedly picked a book. She
belatedly realized it was play. Plays were not her in her cup
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