声音简介
@2008 by Dragonworks, S L Translation @2009 by
Lucia Graves. The narrator, a writer, recalls his childhood in
early twentieth-century Barcelona
Even then my only friends were made of paper
and ink. At school I had learned to read and write
long before the other children. Where my school
Line friends saw notches of ink on incomprehensible
5 pages, I saw light, streets, and people. Words and the
mystery of their hidden science fascinated me, and I
saw in them a key with which I could unlock a
boundless world, a safe haven from that home, those
streets, and those troubled days in which even I
10 could sense that only a limited fortune awaited me
My father didn't like to see books in the house
There was something about them-apart from the
letters he could not decipher-that offended him
He used to tell me that as soon as I was ten he would
15 send me off to work and that I'd better get rid of all
my scatterbrained ideas if I didn't want to end up a
loser, a nobody. I used to hide my books under the
mattress and wait for him to go out or fall asleep so
that I could read. Once he caught me reading at night
20 and flew into a rage. He tore the book from my
hands and flung it out of the window
"If I catch you wasting electricity again, reading
all this nonsense, you'll be sorry.”
My father was not a miser and, despite the
25 hardships we suffered, whenever he could he gave me
a few coins so that I could buy myself some treats like the other children. He was convinced that I spent
them on licorice sticks, sunflower seeds, or sweets,
but I would keep them in a coffee tin under the bed
30 and when I'd collected four or five reales I'd secretly
rush out to buy myself a book.
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