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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.
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.