她们开心地为别人活着,没人留意她们所做出的牺牲。最后,炉上的小蟋蟀停止了甜美的歌唱,灿烂的阳光消逝,只留下了寂静和阴影。
The desert could not be claimed or owned–it was a piece of cloth carried by winds, never held down by stones, and given a hundred shifting names.