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“You see,” the grandfather instructed her, ” that’s what the sun does when he says good night to the mountains. He throws his most beautiful rays over them so that they won’t forget him before morning.”

While trying to be conspicuous about my instagram account, that quotation is from Johanna Spyri’s Heidi. With the reasonable price (less than a dollar) and the nostalgia that comes with it, I had no hesitations in buying it. The memoir is still on my bedside table, Scheherazade’s stories still in my reader app, untouched (I only got to the second story), though I’m done reading another childhood classic.

Thanks to Project Gutenberg, I got to read A Dog of Flanders for free. Wasn’t expecting it to be a short story, but was expecting flashbacks of the animated series of my childhood. No tears shed for the book, unlike when I was watching it on TV. However, the unjust and ungrateful treatment of their neighbors to Nello and Patrasche and his grandfather still got to me. Really, fiction is sometimes reality magnified a thousand times. It isn’t always paradise on the pages. Might as well browse a travelogue for that.

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