I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.
He was the crazy one who had painted himself black and defeated the world. She was the book thief without the words. Trust me, though, the words were on their way, and when they arrived, Liesel would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out like rain.
The town was paper, but the memories were not.
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