be no more comforting place than being among books, and she often thought that public service justified all the choices she had made throughout her life. Every life she touched and improved with her suggestions for books was an incredible satisfaction, even after many years of uninterrupted activity. The exhaustion she felt from countless hours of continuous work was offset by the good she imagined her beloved books produced. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't imagine a more noble role than this! Marta Russo, Sociedade Portuguesa de Psicanálise The day began with heavy rain. I didn't want to talk. My mom started again with that boring conversation about how I'm at that awkward age and how I'm unbearable. I can't listen to her anymore. I left the house without an umbrella, nor a jacket and with sneakers on. I arrived at school soaking wet. I didn't care. Or maybe I did. I still didn't talk. Not even good morning, nothing. I don't want to talk, I can't talk, maybe I don't know how to talk. I always sit in the back row and I know they think I'm weird and strange. But I'm going to stay quiet. The geography teacher asks what hemisphere we are in: “Bia, what hemisphere are we in?” I am in the hemisphere of silence, of non-speech, so you will not get an answer from me. I remain silent. I walk past the school entrance, where there are projects on display about people's disabilities: motor impairments, congenital diseases, sensory alterations, and I see something there. Did you know that people who don't speak don't do so because they can't hear? Deaf people don't speak because they've never heard speech. Am I deaf too? But I heard my mother this morning. And I heard the heavy rain and the geography teacher. I think what I want is to hear other things, so I can talk about other things. “Bia, I like your pants.” “Thank you,” I replied to Ana. Ana was strange and weird. She didn't speak. We both spoke to each other. Yao Lin, China Study Group in Wuhan The day began with heavy rain. As usual, Lily woke up at five o’clock. She was about six or seven years old then. Her brother, fourteen months older than her, got up too. Outside it was still pitch dark. Their grandmother had already prepared breakfast—steamed rice and some dishes. While they ate, she also packed their lunchboxes. Lily carried hers on her back along
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