[挤眼]Hello!I am Teresa.I'm a dance teacher,I have been teaching dance for 14 years.I also have a second job as a wardrobe tidier. Now,I'm learning English,I like English very much。I have many hobbies. In my spare time, I like to read books, swim, scuba dive, bake, travel, play the piano and violin.
What can I hold you with?
Jorges Luis Borges
I offer you lean streets, desperate sunsets, the moon of the jagged suburbs.
I offer you the bitterness of a man who has looked long and long at the lonely moon.
I offer you my ancestors, my dead men, the ghosts that living men have honoured in marble: my father’s father killed in the frontier of Buenos Aires, two bullets through his lungs, bearded and dead, wrapped by his soldiers in the hide of a cow;
my mother’s grandfather -just twentyfour- heading a charge of three hundred men in Perú, now ghosts on vanished horses.I offer you whatever insight my books may hold. whatever manliness or humour my life.
I offer you the loyalty of a man who has never been loyal.
I offer you that kernel of myself that I have saved somehow -the central heart that deals not in words, traffics not with dreams and is untouched by time, by joy, by adversities.
I offer you the memory of a yellow rose seen at sunset, years before you were born.
I offer you explanationsof yourself, theories about yourself, authentic and surprising news of yourself.
I can give you my loneliness, my darkness, the hunger of my heart; I am trying to bribe you with uncertainty, with danger, with defeat
Jorges Luis Borges
I offer you lean streets, desperate sunsets, the moon of the jagged suburbs.
I offer you the bitterness of a man who has looked long and long at the lonely moon.
I offer you my ancestors, my dead men, the ghosts that living men have honoured in marble: my father’s father killed in the frontier of Buenos Aires, two bullets through his lungs, bearded and dead, wrapped by his soldiers in the hide of a cow;
my mother’s grandfather -just twentyfour- heading a charge of three hundred men in Perú, now ghosts on vanished horses.I offer you whatever insight my books may hold. whatever manliness or humour my life.
I offer you the loyalty of a man who has never been loyal.
I offer you that kernel of myself that I have saved somehow -the central heart that deals not in words, traffics not with dreams and is untouched by time, by joy, by adversities.
I offer you the memory of a yellow rose seen at sunset, years before you were born.
I offer you explanationsof yourself, theories about yourself, authentic and surprising news of yourself.
I can give you my loneliness, my darkness, the hunger of my heart; I am trying to bribe you with uncertainty, with danger, with defeat
Song Jialu listened to the snoring of the pen tip rubbing over the paper in the study room, looked up and sneaked a look at Liang Huan sitting next to him. He was wearing a light camel-colored loose sweater, revealing the collar of the white shirt inside, and was lowering his head and looking intently at the books that were spread out in front of him.
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