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Continue reading →: Ode to: Of Beginnings and the Names of Things ~ The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss
In some ways, it began when I listened to them speak. It wasn’t their words, it wasn’t what they were speaking about. It was what their voices were made of. Yearning, sorrow, hope, suffering, fear. Love. Pouring out of their eyes, pouring out of their mouths as sounds that took…
