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“It was the letter. It was just an old piece of paper folded up in her purse, but it was powerful enough to break apart the world as she’d known it and consume her mind, sleeping and waking. But it didn’t help her know what to do. It didn’t create a new world in its place. It left her to wander around the rubble of the old one.”

—   My Name Is Memory, Ann Brashares
  • 3 July 2012
  • 110