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你穿过的门原来是什么样子,走过去以后也要保持那个样子。
We die containing a richness of lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have plunged into and swum up as if rivers of wisdom, characters we have climbed into as if trees, fears we have hidden in as if caves.
"Sometimes love isn’t enough and you have to walk away."