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色彩是我整日的痴迷、快乐和折磨。
Music is my way of making sense of the world.
最终,我们记住的不是敌人的话语,而是朋友的沉默。
To try to write love is to confront the muck of language: that region of hysteria where language is both too much and too little, excessive and impoverished.