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Catherine Carter - Webster, North Carolina (USA):

April 03, 2001:
To this book I owe one (1) Ph.D. in literature.
This book was written by great-aunt Isabelle, and this book by her
    brother Worrall, my great-grandfather. They are both about ships.
This book came from a box in a basement at a yard
    sale, the one nobody thought would sell. I love the book
    because it owes me its life. Because it trusts me, I
    can never let it go.
This book has a letter pressed in it, from someone who made
    me notice the snow on the gnarled but flowering plums fifteen years
    ago, and from whom I have not heard in eleven years.
This book will get me a man. It doesn't care if
    I want one.
This is a book I wrote but never told anyone I wrote.
    When people see its cover, which is frightful, they ask, "Did
    you read that? Did you like that?" I did.
    I do.
This book has never been opened and I will never open it.
    It is a secret.
This book and I have waited for each other a long time.
    We are still waiting.
This book is called An Excellent Mystery, which is mostly true.
For six hours it made me forget something terrible. Every month
    I dust it, with gratitude.


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