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Christmas was coming, so uncle gave us a vacation of three days; Brother Hank brought us to the downtown of Toronto. We first went to University of Toronto; there a new building was being built, and there was a huge hole in the middle of green. At the place we went, the buildings were fabulous, the style of which were like the English in the movies, and which seemed to be built long ago. Then we went around in a big mall, which, like those in China, many people were walking around and countless things were shining.


The things of Xian had come, among which were also those books we put in the fifty boxes. Boxes were still those boxes, but a little shabby now, though most of the books did not get much damaged. Seeing these once again made me feel familiar, arousing some memories in my mind. In them there was a book for calligraphy which, I remember, was bought when I just came. I had once put it on the desks of the seventh floor, and now saw it there. Perhaps these would be the memories of others.

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