文字開始慢慢移動，像螞蟻一樣爬行著，重新排列，組合成一個新的故事。
「我沒寫過這些。」茱莉亞低聲說道，雙眼閃著興奮的光芒。
墨跡逐漸模糊，在書本中間匯集成一灘暗色的湖水。空氣中出現了一隻手，像是美術教室出現的素描作品，線條交錯，輪廓分明。它伸向她的喉嚨，散發著舊羊皮紙和木炭粉揉合的味道。
當它觸碰到她的皮膚時，她感到自己正在消散，漂成一片片墨色光點。收束進二維的紙張中。
「等等，」她哽咽地說。
但書慢慢的合上，她現在成了一個註腳。後面接寫了一些，不是翻譯，是飛更遠的想像
碰——
合上的書本落下，帶起一片灰塵。
先是一小道光，再是一片城鎮，然後是屠殺，最後有了顏色，那是血色浸染的世界。
茱莉亞艱難的移動每個像指尖的地方。身體像被壓扁的觸手，每個小小的角落都能移動，但也被擠壓著。
先是，雨。她拼好了一個字。文字逐漸模糊溼潤，化成一點稀薄的黑霧。
城鎮迎來了一陣黑色的雨，洗刷過後帶來了陽光與暖風。不變的還是結局。
只是那個似乎被閱讀過的文字場景，讓她消渴的身體有了一點飽足。她開始試著拼各種文字......
The words on the page didn't stay still. They crawled like ants, repositioning themselves to tell a story she hadn't written.
"I didn't say that," Julia whispered, her eyes burning.
The ink blurred, swirling into a dark pool in the center of the paper. From the blackness, a hand emerged. Not a real hand, but a sketch of one, cross-hatched and jagged. It reached for her throat, smelling of old parchment and charcoal dust.
As it touched her skin, she felt herself thinning. Her three-dimensional weight was being vacuumed into the two-dimensional plane of the book.
"Wait," she choked out.
But the book was closing, and she was only a footnote now.
